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GENERAL EDITOR 
WILBUR LUCIUS CROSS 

PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH IN YALE UNIVERSITY 



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Sir Walter Scott 

Frontispiece of the first edition of The Lady of the Lake 
An engraving by Heath after a portrait by Saxon 



SCOTT'S 
LADY OF THE LAKE 



EDITED BY 

ALFRED M. HITCHCOCK 

DEPARTMENT OF ENGLISH 
HARTFORD PUBLIC HIGH SCHOOL 




NEW YORK 
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 

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Copyright, 191 1 

BY 

HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 



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I PREFATORY NOTE 

In preparing the biographical sketch found in the In- 
troduction I have relied mainly on Lockhart's Life of Scott 
and The Dictionary of National Biography. The text of 
the poem is that prepared many years ago by Dr. Rolfe 
and commonly accepted as best. It is used by his courteous 
permission, granted a few weeks before his death. The 
map follows somewhat closely one found in Paterson's 
Handguide to Scotland. Many of the notes are Scott's, 
given in full or in abridged form; and no doubt I am in- 
debted in some instances to Taylor, Rolfe, and other editors 
of recognized scholarship. The questions are intended 
to be suggestive merely, indicating in a general way certain 
Unes of profitable study. They are added to the notes 
not without misgivings; for though some are very simple, 
others call for more thought than the immature pupil pos- 
sesses. It is hoped that the instructor will select wisely, 
omitting all that threaten to interfere with the enjoyment 
of the poem; and that in some cases the paragraphs ex- 
plaining the meter of the poem — purposely placed at the 
end of the volume — will be omitted entirely. 

A. M. H. 



CONTENTS 



Introduction 

I. Scott's Life and Works 
II. The Lady of the Lake 

Descriptive Bibliography . 

The Lady of the Lake 
Canto I. The Chase 
Canto 11. The Island 
Canto III. The Gathering 
Canto IV. The Prophecy 
Canto V. The Combat . 
Canto VI. The Guard-Room 

Notes and Comment . 

The Metrical Plan of the Poem 



PAGE 

ix 
xix 

XXV 

3 

27 
55 
81 
107 
135 
165 
189 



Portrait of Sir Walter Scott . 

In the Trossachs 

Glenartney 

Loch Katrine and Ellen's Isle 

Ben Lomond and Loch Lomond 

Fitz- James and Roderick Dhu 

Stirling Castle 

Loch Achray and Benvenue . 

Map Illustrating The Lady of the Lake 



Frontispiece 

viii 

2 

27 

56 

80 

107 

135 

164 



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INTRODUCTION 



SCOTT'S LIFE AND WORKS 

Walter Scott was born in Edinburgh, August 15, 1771. 
His father was a moderately successful lawyer, his mother 
the daughter of a professor in Edinburgh University — 
plain people, upright in character and of more than average 
intelligence, but by no means prominent socially. The 
family was eventually a large one. A number of children 
died in infancy; Walter was the second of six, five boys 
and a girl, who lived to grow up. 

His boyhood was in some ways unusual. When but 
eighteen months old a fever, which at the time caused 
Uttle alarm, left him partially paralyzed in the right leg. 
It was thought that country air might help him to get well; 
so he was sent to live with his grandfather Scott, who was a 
farmer in a little village near Kelso in the Tweed country. 
Here he remained most of the time till he was eight years 
old. Thus his early boyhood days were spent away from 
home, among relatives who cared for him tenderly, petting 
him more, perhaps, than was best. He grew into a high- 
spirited, sturdy lad, without a trace of weakness save that 
he was lame — lame for life. 

His education, necessarily, was somewhat irregular; that 
is, he attended a number of schools and at times was in- 
structed at home by a tutor. No one ever called him a 

ix 



X Introduction 

dunce, yet he was never a brilliant pupil. In a biographi- 
cal sketch written in later years Scott says of himself that 
he was an ^'incorrigibly idle imp, who was always longing 
to do something else than what was enjoined." Yet one 
of his masters speaks of his '' sweetness and intelligence," 
surely a good combination. Testimony from many sources 
leaves the impression that he possessed more than average 
ability, that he excelled by fits and starts in whatever studies 
he liked, but that he preferred outdoor sports to lessons. 
Certain it is that his teachers were fond of him, and that 
among his mates he was a leader regarded with the affection 
and admiration schoolboys always feel for one who is not a 
prig, but a wholesome, good natured, spirited fellow, and 
no coward. 

Education is not gained solely by attending school. 
Here are some of the things with which he had stored his 
mind before boyhood days were over. He had listened 
eagerly to many a tale of earlier times when the Border 
country between Scotland and England was the scene of 
stirring events — tales told by his Aunt Janet, by his grand- 
mother, and by the shepherds at his grandfather's farm. 
Not a few of these concerned his own ancestors; for his 
mother was a descendant of many famous warriors, and 
his father's ancestors had been a ''great riding and sport- 
ing and fighting clan. " There were tales about a several- 
times-great-grandfather called John the Lamister (cripple) ; 
about William the Bolt-foot, a famous Border knight; and 
about Auld Wat Scott of Harden. Auld Wat's son Will, so 
runs the legend, was once captured while raiding the lands 
of Sir Gideon Murray, who gave him his choice between 
swinging from a gallows and marrying the homeliest of 
his four homely daughters. It took the handsome young 
Scot three days to decide, but in the end he took "Mickle- 



Scott's Life and Works xi 

mouthed Meg" — and Will and Meg lived happily ever after. 
WilFs grandson bore the nickname '^Beardie/' for he kept 
a vow that never would he shave unless the banished Stuarts 
were restored to power. 

Many of the romantic tales which delighted his fancy 
were found in old ballads, and for ballads Walter soon 
developed a passion, though he could not sing them, for 
he never could ''hold a tune.'' He sought them as eagerly 
as some boys now-a-days collect stamps or Indian relics. 
They became his hobby. And in his search for ballads, 
many of which had never been printed but had been passed 
down orally from generation to generation, he made, first 
and last, many excursions through the Border country, thus 
becoming acquainted with a region of great natural beauty 
and equally great historic interest. 

Moreover he was a reading boy, exceedingly fond of 
history, particularly the history of Scotland, and of romantic 
tales and stirring poetry. A list of the books read by Scott 
before he became a man would seem remarkable to most 
American boys, because of its wide range and its high 
quality. Whatever was romantic in prose or poetry, es- 
pecially if it told of olden times, fascinated him, and whatever 
he really liked his wonderful memory retained. It should 
be noted, too, that he possessed, even when a boy, wonder- 
ful skill in retelling what he had read or listened to, and in 
describing scenes that had delighted his eye. 

At the age of twelve, having passed through what was 
known as the Edinburgh Grammar or High School, where 
in all branches, save possibly Latin, the studies were of 
course more elementary than in our American high schools, 
he entered the University, his mind well stored with many 
things not found in text-books. Here his work was quite 
as irregular as in the lower schools; he attended but few 



xii Introduction 

classes and only for a year or two. When fifteen, he was 
apprenticed to his father, and at twenty-one, after an ap- 
prenticeship of six years, he was called to the bar; that 
is, he became an advocate. 

This long apprenticeship, Scott declares, was an excellent 
thing for him, since it taught him to be industrious and 
methodical even when doing uninteresting things. Law 
was not actually distasteful, yet it never became an absorb- 
ing interest; without neglecting duties in his father's office, 
he found time for other things more to his liking. He con- 
tinued to read many books. He studied, superficially, 
several modern languages. His love for ballads and for 
history grew till he became an antiquary of no mean at- 
tainments. Yet he was never what may be called a book- 
worm, for he was fond of lively company and became a 
favorite socially among the better people of Edinburgh. 
Many were the long rambles that he took with a few jovial 
companions through the surrounding country, rambles 
that further familiarized him with romantic scenes and 
added to his collection of ballads. His tall, athletic figure 
became known far and wide, and many tales are told of 
the roaring fun attending these walking tours. 

Nominally Scott kept to the law for fourteen years, or 
until he was thirty-five. His practice, however, was never 
large. No doubt he would have succeeded better had he led 
a life less gay — had joined fewer clubs, made fewer ''raids'' 
with lively companions in Liddesdale, and devoted less 
time to his hobbies. Such a life made him exceedingly 
popular, particularly with the members of a volunteer 
company of cavalry who elected him quartermaster; it 
did not bring him many clients. At twenty-eight he was 
appointed deputy sheriff of Selkirkshire with a salary of 
£300, though the duties required I5ut little time; and .seven 



Scott's Life and Works xiii 

years later he was elected clerk of Quarter Sessions, a court 
held quarterly by the justices of the peace of the countv. 
This latter office, which he held practically as long as he 
lived, kept him busy in Edinburgh six months in the year. 
It brought an additional salary of £1500. Thus Scott 
became a man of some importance socially and in public 
affairs. He was fortunate financially. An uncle left him 
a substantial legacy. Moreover his wife — when twenty- 
six Scott married a Miss Carpenter, daughter of a French 
refugee, whom he met while making a tour of the English 
lake region — possessed an annuity of £500. He stands, 
therefore, in marked contrast to many who have gained a 
livelihood solely by their pens. As he once expressed it, 
writing was to him not a crutch but a staff. 

Scott's literary career began when he was twenty-five 
and continued till his death, thirty-six years later. First 
came a little volume containing two ballads translated from 
the German. Soon after appeared a work in three volumes 
entitled The Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border. This was 
but his collection of ballads which, as we have seen, had 
been growing through many years. It was well received, 
especially in Scotland, and won for the collector a well- 
deserved reputation as an antiquary. Encouraged by 
this success, he published, two years later, a romantic 
poem in six cantos entitled The Lay of the Last Minstrel, 
first of eight long poems which appeared during a period 
of twelve years, the last being Harold the Dauntless (181 7). 
The best of these are the first three, The Lay of the Last 
Minstrel, Marmion, and The Lady of the Lake, 

It is difficult in these days, when poetry is read so little, to 
realize how very popular Scott's poems were. The sales 
were phenomenal, the greatest then known in the annals 
of English literature. Wherever English was spoken, this 



xiv Introduction 

new minstrel of the North became a favorite. His spirited 
tales, so different from anything that had previously ap- 
peared, captivated hundreds of thousands of readers, old 
and young. Thus the none too successful Edinburgh 
advocate, deputy sheriff of Selkirkshire and clerk of Quarter 
Sessions, became famous. The secret of that fame we 
find, partly at least, in his boyhood fancy for old tales, old 
rimes, and romantic scenes. 

Quite as remarkable as Scott's rapid rise to unprecedented 
popularity as a poet was his abrupt abandonment of poetry. 
Harold the Dauntless was his last poem of importance; 
the remaining fifteen years of his life were devoted almost 
exclusively to prose. The reason for such a change Scott 
has given very frankly. Readers, at first so captivated, 
grew tired of romantic tales in imitation of the old-time 
minstrelsy. They preferred the new poet Byron, whose 
rise to popularity was even more wonderful than Scott's. 
Phenomenal as were the sales of The Lay of the Last Min- 
strel and the other earlier poems, the later ones found a 
less ready market. Plainly it was time to try a new field 
or abandon writing altogether. 

In 1814, three years before the last of the long poems 
was published, the first novel appeared. It was Waverley, 
an historical romance in which Charles the Pretender 
is a prominent figure. It was issued anonymously, for 
the poet half feared this new venture would prove a failure. 
But his fears were groundless. His success as poet was 
quite eclipsed by this new success. Who is this Great 
Unknown? readers were asking. For many years the 
secret was kept by author and publisher, though Scott was 
often suspected. In all there are about thirty of the so- 
called Waverley novels, the last. Castle Dangerous, ap- 
pearing in 1832, the year of Scott's death. They form a 



Scott's Life and Works xv 

wonderful series of historical romances, the most brilliant 
known to the annals of literature. In time, they range 
from Count Robert of Paris (1090) to St. Ronan^s Well^ a 
tale of 1800. The first nine deal with dramatic incidents 
in Scottish history; the tenth, perhaps best known of all, 
is Ivanhoe, the scene of which is laid in England in the days 
of Richard the Lion-hearted. Scott seems equally at home 
in Scotland, England, or on the Continent. The secret 
of this wonderful power we find again in his early love for 
history and the ^^picturesque and vanishing forms of so- 
ciety. " 

Brilliant as was Scott's success as poet and novelist, his 
life as a private gentleman is in many ways more interesting. 
It is not a little surprising to learn that to him his many 
books were but a secondary matter; that though he was 
not indifferent to fame as a writer, his fondest ambition 
lay in another direction. Since early manhood, we are 
told, it had been his dream to become a great landowner 
and live somewhat grandly in a spacious mansion, enter- 
taining a host of friends with open-handed hospitality — 
in short to lead a life resembling in some measure that 
of a feudal lord, the chief of a clan. This dream was all 
but realized. 

For a time after his marriage he lived in or near Edin- 
burgh, but early in his career as poet he leased a small 
farm called Ashestiel, on the south bank of the Tweed, a 
few miles from the little town of Selkirk. Here he remained 
eight years (1804-12). The first three of the long poems 
were written at Ashestiel, and here too his four children 
were born. It was a happy period in Scott's life, and one 
of great industry. So rapid was his rise that, when at 
length his lease expired, he felt justified in purchasing for 
£4000 a little estate, five miles farther down the river and 



xvi Introduction 

not far from the beautiful ruins of Melrose Abbey. This 
was the beginning of what was afterwards called Abbots- 
ford. ''The farm/' writes the biographer Lockhart, 
''consisted of a meadow or haugh along the banks of the 
river, and a tract of undulated ground behind, all in a 
neglected state, undrained, wretchedly enclosed, much of 
it covered with the native heath.. The house was small 
and poor, with a common kail yard on one flank, and a 
staring barn on the other; while in front appeared a filthy 
pond covered with ducks and duckweed, from which the 
whole tenement had derived the unharmonious designation 
of Clarty Hole.'" But soon the farmhouse was trans- 
formed into a substantial cottage, and the cottage in time 
grew into a great mansion, quite a castle in fact. Not only 
were the lands improved but, as large sums were received 
from his romances, adjoining estates were purchased till 
twelve years later, when Abbotsford was completed, its 
total cost had mounted to £'j 6,000, 

But the story of Abbotsford is well known— how for 
many years this great-hearted man of tremendous industry 
lived happily on his ever-growing estate, superintending 
every detail in its improvement, turning out book after book 
at a rate truly phenomenal, yet never lacking time to enter- 
tain his many friends. It was "open house" from one 
year's end to the other. Equally well known is the great 
blow which fell when the printing and publishing establish- 
ments in which for years Scott had been a silent partner 
failed, leaving him a bankrupt owing ;£i 20,000. 

The blow was sufficient to have killed an ordinary man, 
and no doubt it shortened Sir Walter's life. (Sir Walter 
he had been since 1820, for among other honors he had been 
made baronet.) But Scott was not an ordinary man. His 
pluck asserted itself. He was fifty-five, his health beginning 



Scott's Life and Works xvii 

to show the efifect of years of over- work; yet he set out 
resolutely determined to pay every penny. Wealthy friends, 
and strangers even, rallied to his support. The poor 
harper who had taught his two daughters offered all that 
he possessed, a few hundred pounds. Had Scott so desired, 
the debt might have been paid in a few months, so great 
was the affection with which he was regarded by all. But 
Scott accepted no gifts. Fortunately his family was pro- 
vided for; and Abbotsford was saved, since it was entailed 
— settled upon his son, who had married an heiress a few 
years before the blow fell. But strict economy became 
necessary. Many servants were dismissed, a few willingly 
remaining even though they received lowxr wages. And 
Scott, shattered in health, worried moreover because of 
the serious illness of his wife, settled down to work with 
a persistence truly wonderful. So remarkable was his 
literary industry* that, incredible as it may seem, it is esti- 
mated that in two years ;^4o,ooo of his indebtedness had 
been paid. 

But such exertion could not continue long. His health 
failed rapidly after Lady Scott's death in 1826. In 1831, 
having partially recovered from a paralytic shock of the 
previous year, he tried the effect of a Mediterranean cruise. 
In 1832, home again in Abbotsford, he died. It is com- 
forting to know that Sir Walter passed away believing that 
the one great desire of his declining years — the payment 
of his debts — had been accomplished. In a way he was 
right in so thinking; for though ;^5o,ooo remained unpaid, 
a large insurance policy and the sale of valuable copyrights 
canceled every obligation, not long after this great and 
good man was laid to rest amid the ruins of Dryburgh 
Abbey, a few miles down the Tweed from Abbotsford. 

Where shall we place Scott among English writers? 



xviii Introduction 

Of the poets, Chaucer, Spenser, Shakespeare, Milton, 
Dryden, Pope, Gray, Goldsmith, and Burns came before 
him; Wordsworth, Byron, Coleridge, Shelley, and Keats 
were contemporaries; Tennyson and Browning came a 
little later. Among writers of prose fiction he is preceded 
by Defoe, Swift, Richardson, Fielding, Smollett, Sterne, 
Goldsmith, and Miss Burney; he is first of the four great 
novelists of the nineteenth century — Scott, Dickens, George 
Eliot, Thackeray. To be admitted at all to membership 
in the company of these great names is high honor. Al- 
though he does not rank among the greatest poets, no one 
has ever excelled him in writing long romantic poems such 
as Marmion and The Lady of the Lake. They have their 
faults, which even young readers may readily discover; 
but poems which have held popular favor for a century 
must possess sterling merits which should prompt us to 
overlook their faults. His novels too are not above criti- 
cism. To the reader of to-day they seem long drawn out, 
the narrative impeded by too much antiquarian detail. 
The close student complains that the romancer's love for 
the past led him to idealize, making historical personages 
more heroic and lovable than facts will warrant; that the 
story-teller's instinct led him to color historical incidents 
in such a way as to convey wrong impressions. After all 
has been said, however, his novels remain the most brilliant 
series of historical romances the world has ever seen. 

And what of Scott the man? Again we may pick flaws 
here and there. He was not perfect. There are high levels 
which his ideals never reached. Yet no one can read his 
works and Lockhart's wonderful biography without gain- 
ing the impression that his character and his life, when 
looked at broadly, were clean and noble. We admire 
his tremendous energy. His duties as sheriff and as clerk 



The Lady of the Lake xix 

of Quarter Sessions were enough for one man to perform; 
yet he found time to write scores of volumes, time to 
develop a miserable little farm into the large and well 
ordered estate of Abbotsford, besides keeping up a wide 
correspondence and entertaining an exceptionally large circle 
of friends. We admire his democratic spirit and his warm 
heart; for though his sympathies were strong for aristoc- 
racy, and he enjoyed associating with people of high rank 
and social prominence, he never appeared to better ad- 
vantage than when among the laborers in the fields at 
Abbotsford or chatting at the door of a cottage. He was 
at home, apparently, among all classes, unrestrained yet 
retaining his dignity, a great favorite among the peasants. 
Finally we admire his sense of honor. He could not do a 
mean thing — desert a friend, take advantage of another 
in business transactions, or even shut his eyes to an opportu- 
nity to aid a stranger in distress. It is altogether fitting that 
in the beautiful capital of the Scotland he loved so dearly 
and served so well, there should be, casting its shadow on 
her most beautiful thoroughfare, a tall, graceful, dignified 
monument erected in his memory. It is, in part, a tribute 
to his skill as a writer, but in greater part, we may believe, 
to his strong, wholesome, manly character. 

II 

THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

This, the third of the longer poems and by many con- 
sidered the best, was written during what was doubtless 
the happiest period of Scott's life. He was in full physical 
and mental vigor. He had an assured income sufficiently 
large to relieve him of all serious worry. He was com- 
fortably established in a new home, Ashestiel, concerning 



XX Introduction 

which Lockhart writes as follows: *'A more beautiful 
situation for the residence of a poet could not be conceived. 
The house was then a small one, but, compared with the 
cottage at Lasswade [where Scott had lived previous to 
coming to Ashestiel], its accommodations were amply 
sufficient. You approached it through an old-fashioned 
garden, with holly hedges, and broad, green, terrace walks. 
On one side, close under the windows, is a deep ravine, 
clothed with venerable trees, down which a mountain rivulet 
is heard, more than seen, in its progress to the Tweed. 
The river itself is separated from the high bank on which 
the house stands only by a narrow meadow of the richest 
verdure. Opposite, and all around, are the green hills. 
The valley there is narrow, and the aspect in every direction 
is that of perfect pastoral repose. The heights immediately 
behind are those which divide the Tweed from the Yarrow; 
and the latter celebrated stream lies within an easy ride, 
in the course of which the traveler passes through a variety 
of the finest mountain scenery in the south of Scotland. 
No town is within seven miles but Selkirk, which was then 
still smaller and quieter than it is now; there was hardly 
even a gentleman's family within visiting distance, except 
at Yair, a few miles lower on the Tweed, the ancient seat 
of the Pringles of Whytbank, and at Bowhil, between the 
Yarrow and Ettrick, where the Earl of Dalkeith used 
occasionally to inhabit a small shooting-lodge, which has 
since grown into a ducal residence. The country all around, 
with here and there an insignificant exception, belongs 
to the Buccleugh estate; so that, whichever way he chose 
to turn, the bard of the clan had ample room and verge 
enough for every variety of field sport; and being then in 
the prime vigor of manhood, he was not slow to profit by 
these advantages. Meantime the concerns of his own 



The Lady of the Lake xxi 

little farm, and the care of his absent relative's woods,- gave 
him healthful occupation in the intervals of the chase; 
and he had long, solitary evenings for the uninterrupted 
exercise of his pen; perhaps, on the whole, better op- 
portunities for study than he had ever enjoyed before, or 
was to meet with elsewhere in later days. " 

Surely Lockhart's account pictures an ideal retreat for 
a poet of Scott's temperament. As we read still further 
the details of his daily life — how with the help of two faith- 
ful servants, '^ honest" Tom Purdie, ex-poacher, and Peter 
Mathieson the coachman, he busied himself about his 
little farm, yet found time for hunting and fishing and 
excursions through the surrounding country, and of how 
he played with his children and directed their education 
along wholesome lines, the impression is strengthened that 
conditions were most favorable for successful composition. 
Nor should we forget how well equipped Scott was for 
writing this particular poem. He knew Scottish history 
thoroughly, and the antiquarian researches in which he 
had taken such pleasure even from boyhood days made 
him thoroughly familiar with the manners and customs 
of earlier times. Moreover he knew the entire Lake region, 
the scene of his story, remarkably well; for in earlier days 
he had taken many a ramble through the country border- 
ing Loch Katrine and Loch Lomond. And before beginning 
the romance, we are told, he revisited every locality men- 
tioned in the story, carefully noting the natural beauty, 
and even making sure, by means of a furious gallop, how 
long it should take his hero to ride at full speed from Loch 
Vennachar to Stirling. The account of the chase, with 
which the poem begins, was written before his return to 
Ashestiel, while pictures of the region were still fresh in 
his memory. 



xxii Introduction 

The reception of the poem, on its publication in May, 
1810, was remarkable. ^'The whole country rang with the 
praises of the poet, " writes a publisher of that day. ^' Crowds 
set off to view the scenery of Loch Katrine, till then com- 
paratively unknown; and as the book came out just before 
the season for excursions, every house and inn in that neigh- 
borhood was crammed with a constant succession of 
visitors. '' During the first twelve months the sales amounted 
to 20,000 copies. Nor was the success of the poem tem- 
porary; it has remained a favorite with old and young ever 
since. 

The poem owes its charm to many causes. The scenes 
are laid in a region of romantic beauty which, as has been 
noted, Scott knew and loved and possessed the power to 
describe with wonderful fidelity. Thousands of tourists 
continue to visit Loch Katrine every year, lured by his 
descriptions of loch and ben, and The Lady of the Lake 
is found to be a reliable guidebook. Equally successful 
is Scott the antiquary in picturing the life of the Highlander 
of earlier, more stirring times, selecting with a poet's in- 
stinct, and a lover's too, whatever is calculated to win the 
interest and the sympathy of his readers. Moreover the 
story, with its slight historical coloring, is well worth telling. 
From the opening stanzas in which the hunt is so graphi- 
cally described, to the concluding scene in Stirling Castle, 
interest does not lag. To be sure it is but a romance with 
the haze of long ago clinging to it; and true love, brave 
deeds, noble generosity, plumed knights in disguise, fair 
maidens in distress, mystery approaching the supernatural — 
all these are the familiar trappings of story-telling. Yet 
the world goes back to them with pleasure, finding them a 
relief after the multitude of novels which strive to picture 
the real world of to-day in which plumed lovers of royal 



The Lady of the Lake xxiii 

blood no longer present rings to rustic maids, and the 
supernatural has disappeared before the march of trade 
and invention. 

There is a charm, too, in the vehicle of the story; the 
verse which the poet employs casts a wonderful spell. 
Careless at times, never showing the finish found in the 
works of the greater poets, nevertheless its swing and 
melody are captivating. The lines cling in the memory, 
and we find ourselves repeating favorite passages when 
other and greater poems have been forgotten. Sir Walter 
could not ''hold a tune, '^ but he knew how so to use words 
as to produce perhaps not the sweeter, more deeply emotional 
melody of flute and violin, but the stirring music of pibroch 
and drum. 

Finally — and this is true in large measure not only of 
the poems but of the novels as well — although we may 
not think of Scott as we read his lines, unconsciously we 
feel his presence and like it — the presence of a strong, manly 
man, fond of things that wholesome manhood should be 
fond of, brave and generous like his heroes. We feel, 
as we leave the storyteller, that we have been in good com- 
pany. 



DESCRIPTIVE BIBLIOGRAPHY 



Lockhart's Life of Scott, first published in seven volumes 
but afterwards condensed to one, and the still briefer ac- 
count found in the Dictionary of National Biography are 
the recognized authorities in matters pertaining to Scott. 
The Cambridge edition of the poems (Houghton, Mifflin 
& Co.) and the Temple edition of the novels (J. M. Dent & 
Co.) are good editions to buy for the home or school library. 
The list of Scott's works found in the Dictionary of National 
Biography contains over sixty titles, including the eight 
longer poems, thirty or more novels and tales, lives of Napo- 
leon, Swift, and Dryden, and many miscellaneous works. 
The following descriptive catalogue is not complete, its 
purpose being to call attention to the principal works. A 
more extended account of the novels is to be found in A 
Descriptive Guide to the Best Fiction y by Ernest A. Baker 
(Swan Sonnenschein & Co.), and in The Waverley Diction- 
ary y by May Rogers (S. C. Griggs & Co.). 

POETRY 

1802-3. The Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border. 

A collection in three volumes of ''the poetical antiquities of the 
Border,'* with introductory essays and many notes. It contains, 
one critic has said, "the elements of a hundred historical romances. " 

1805. The Lay of the Last Minstrel. 

A seventeenth century Border tale of love and warfare, in which 
an elfin page plays an important part. 

1808. Marmion, 

XXV 



xxvi Descriptive Bibliography 

A tale of true love and false, of intrigue, disguise, fighting. The 
concluding scene is at the battle of Flodden Field (1513). 

1810. The Lady of the Lake. 

1811. The Vision of Don Roderick. 

The last of the Gothic kings sees in a vision the future of Spain. 
It is a poem of little merit. 

1812. Rokeby. 

A Yorkshire tale of the year 1644. This is not one of Scott's 
best, yet there are many fine passages. The ending is most tragic. 

1813. The Bridal of Triermain. 

A "sleeping beauty" tale about Gyneth, daughter of King Arthur, 

who is wakened from a trance five centuries long by brave Sir 

Roland de Vaux. 
1815. The Lord of the Isles. 

A stirring tale in which Robert Bruce appears. The concluding 

scene is at the battle of Bannockburn. 
1817. Harold the Dauntless. 

This is the last of Scott's long poems and perhaps the poorest. 

The hero is a Dane who was "rocked on a buckler and fed from a 

blade"; the heroine a Danish maiden who follows him through 

many perils, disguised as a page. 

NOVELS 

1814. Waverley. 

A Scottish romance having as its historical background the Jacobite 
Rebellion of 1745. Among the principal characters is Prince 
Charles the Pretender. 

1815. Guy Mannering. 

The central figure is a retired English officer interested in astrology. 
Dandie Dinmont, Dominie Sampson, Meg Merrilies the Gypsy, 
and Dick Hatteraick the smuggler are well-drawn characters. 
The time of the story is 1750-70. 

1816. The Antiquary. 

This, like the preceding, furnishes attractive pictures of Scottish 
manners in the latter half of the eighteenth century. It was Scott's 
favorite. 



Descriptive Bibliography xxvii 

1816. The Black Dwarf. 

A Border tale of the early seventeenth century. 

1816. Old Mortality. 
This, one of Scott's best, tells of the Covenanters' Rebellion in 
1679. It was Tennyson's favorite. 

1818. Roh Roy. 
The central historical figure, Rob Roy, is the Robin Hood of Scot- 
land. The heroine, Diana Vernon, is fascinating, and Baillie 
Nicol Jarvie one of the best of Scott's humorous characters. The 
time of the story, 1715. , 

1818. The Heart of Midlothian. 

The pathetic story of Effie Deans and her. brave sister Jeanie, 
perhaps the noblest of all Scott's heroines; the time, 1736. It is 
a favorite with most readers. 

1819. The Bride of Lammermoor . 

A tragic love tale of the late seventeenth century, by some critics 
considered the most finished of the Waverley novels. 
1819. A Legend of Montrose. 

A tale of the Civil War, 1645-46. It contains the well-known 
character Dugald Dalgetty. 

1819. Ivanhoe. 

This is the first of Scott's English romances. The time of the story 
is 1194; the principal characters, known to every schoolboy, are 
Richard Coeur-de-Lion, Robin Hood, Ivanhoe, the Jewess Rebecca, 
and the Saxon Rowena. 

1820. The Monastery. 

A Border romance, the principal events occurring on Tweedside. 
A tame story. 

1820. The Abbot. 

Sequel to The Monastery. The central figure is the unfortunate 
Mary Queen of Scots, whose portrait is drawn with great care. 
The time, 1567-68. 

1821. Kenilworth. 

Second of the English romances. The central historical figure 
is Queen Elizabeth, whose character is admirably portrayed. The 
reader's interest is divided between the graphic account of '^courtly 



xxviii Descriptive Bibliography 

gaieties and splendor" and the pathetic story of the life of Amy 
Robsart. Raleigh and Shakespeare are introduced. 
1822. The Pirate. 
The scene of the story is the Orkney and Shetland Islands. The 
plot of the romance was suggested by the career of a pirate executed 
in 1725. 

1822. The Fortunes of Nigel. 

The scene of the story is London during the reign of James I, whose 
character is portrayed in a masterly way. Nigel, a young Scotch 
nobleman seeking his fortune, is an attractive hero. 

1823. Peveril of the Peak. 

A tiresome, poorly constructed novel, the scenes laid for the most 
part in Derbyshire and the Isle of Man. It contains fairly good 
pictures of the times of Charles II. 

1823. Quentin Durward. 

First of the Continental romances, most of the scenes being laid 
in the border districts of France and Flanders, during the times 
of Louis XI and Charles the Bold. The hero is a young Scotch- 
man. This is considered one of Scott's best. It is said to have 
inspired Dumas to write historical romances. 

1824. St. Ronan's Well. 

Scott's only society novel, the scene laid in upper Tweeddale, 
the time 1800. It is a poor tale, though one of the actors, Meg 
Dods, is among the best of Scott's humorous characters. 

1824. Redgauntlet. 

Another Scottish romance in which Bonnie Prince Charlie appears. 

1825. The Betrothed. 

The scene of this story is a Norman castle on the border of Wales 
during the reign of Henry II (1187). 

1825. The Talisman. 

Like the preceding, this is a tale of the Crusaders. The scene 
is Palestine. Richard Coeur-de-Lion again appears. Of course 
there is a young Scottish hero. 

1826. Woodstock. 

A story of the English Civil War and Commonwealth period, 
with Cromwell the central historical figure. 



Descriptive Bibliography xxix 

1827. The Surgeon's Daughter. 

Published with The Two Drovers and The Highland Widow in 
the j&rst series of Chronicles of the Canongate. These are short 
novels, little read. 

1828. The Fair Maid of Perth. 

A St. Valentine's romance, Scotch, of the year 1402. 

1829. Anne of Geier stein. 

The scenes are laid in France, Germany, and Switzerland during 
the latter half of the fifteenth century. The historical background 
is the war between Charles of Burgundy and the Swiss. 

1832. Count Robert of Paris. 

Another tale of the Crusaders, the scene laid in Constantinople. 

1832. Castle Dangerous. 

Published with the preceding. A fourteenth century tale of the 
Castle of the Black Douglas, called the Perilous because three 
times taken from the English. It is the last of Scott's novels and 
one of the poorest. 

MISCELLANEOUS 

1808. Life of Dryden. 

1814. Life of Swift. 

1821. Lives of the Novelists. 

Biographical sketches written to accompany an edition of the 
British novelists. 

1827. Life of Napoleon. 

Published in nine volumes. Scott the biographer is less success- 
ful than Scott the romancer. 

1828-30. Tales of a Grandfather. 

History in storied form for young readers. Issued in four series. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE 




Glenartney 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE 



CANTO FIRST 

THE CHASE 

Harp of the North! that mouldering long hast hung 

On the witch-elm that shades Saint Fillan's spring, 
And down the fitful breeze thy numbers flung, 

Till envious ivy did around thee cling, 
Muffling with verdant ringlet every string, — 

O Minstrel Harp, still must thine accents sleep? 
Mid rustling leaves and fountains murmuring. 

Still must thy sweeter sounds their silence keep, 
Nor bid a warrior smile, nor teach a maid to weep? 

Not thus, in ancient days of Caledon, lo 

Was thy voice mute amid the festal crowd, 
When lay of hopeless love, or glory won. 

Aroused the fearful or subdued the proud. 
At each according pause was heard aloud 

Thine ardent symphony sublime and high! 
Fair dames and crested chiefs attention bowed; 

For still the burden of thy minstrelsy 
Was Knighthood's dauntless deed, and Beauty's matchless eye. 

O, wake once more! how rude soe'er the hand 

That ventures o'er thy magic maze to stray. 20 

O, wake once more! though scarce my skill command 

Some feeble echoing of thine earlier lay. 

3 



4 The Lady of the Lake [Canto i 

Though harsh and faint, and soon to die away, 

And all unworthy of thy nobler strain, 
Yet if one heart throb higher at its sway. 

The wizard note has not been touched in vain. 
Then silent be no more! Enchantress, wake again! 



The stag at eve had drunk his fill. 

Where danced the moon on Monan's rill, 

And deep his midnight lair had made 30 

In lone Glenartney's hazel shade; 

But when the sun his beacon red 

Had kindled on Benvoirlich's head, 

The deep-mouthed bloodhound's heavy bay 

Resounded up the rocky way. 

And faint, from farther distance borne. 

Were heard the clanging hoof and horn. 

n 

As Chief who hears his warder call, 

*To arms! the foemen storm the wall,' 

The antlered monarch of the waste 40 

Sprung from his heathery couch in haste. 

But ere his fleet career he took. 

The dewdrops from his flanks he shook; 

Like crested leader proud and high 

Tossed his beamed frontlet to the sky; 

A moment gazed adown the dale, 

A moment snuffed the tainted gale, 

A moment listened to the cry. 

That thickened as the chase drew nigh; 

Then, as the headmost foes appeared, 50 

With one brave bound the copse he cleared. 

And, stretching forward free and far, 

Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var. 



Canto I] The Chase 5 

III 

Yelled on the view the opening pack; 

Rock, glen, and cavern paid them back; 

To many a mingled sound at once 

The awakened mountain gave response. 

A hundred dogs bayed deep and strong, 

Clattered a hundred steeds along. 

Their peal the merry horns rung out, 60 

A hundred voices joined the shout; 

With hark and whoop and wild halloo, 

No rest Benvoirlich's echoes knew. 

Far from the tumult fled the roe, 

Close in her covert cowered the doe; 

The falcon, from her cairn on high, 

Cast on the rout a wondering eye. 

Till far beyond her piercing ken 

The hurricane had swept the glen. 

Faint, and more faint, its failing din 70 

Returned from cavern, cliff, and linn, 

And silence settled, wide and still, 

On the lone wood and mighty hill. 

IV 

Less loud the sounds of sylvan war 

Disturbed the heights of Uam-Var, 

And roused the cavern where, 'tis told, 

A giant made his den of old; 

For ere that steep ascent was won, 

High in his pathway hung the sun. 

And many a gallant, stayed perforce, 80 

Was fain to breathe his faltering horse, 

And of the trackers of the deer 

Scarce half the lessening pack was near, 

So shrewdly on the mountain-side 

Had the bold burst their mettle tried. 



The Lady of the Lake [Canto i. 



The noble stag was pausing now 

Upon the mountain's southern brow, 

Where broad extended, far beneath. 

The varied realms of fair Menteith. 

With anxious eye he wandered o'er 90 

Mountain and meadow, moss and moor, 

And pondered refuge from his toil 

By far Lochard or Aberfoyle. 

But nearer was the copsewood gray 

That waved and wept, on Loch Achray, 

And mingled with the pine-trees blue 

On the bold cliffs of Benvenue. 

Fresh vigor with the hope returned. 

With flying foot the heath he spurned, 

Held westward with unwearied race, 100 

And left behind the panting chase. 

VI 

'Twere long to tell what steeds gave o'er 

As swept the hunt through Cambusmore; 

What reins were tightened in despair. 

When rose Benledi's ridge in air; 

Who flagged upon Bochastle's heath. 

Who shunned to stem the flooded Teith, — 

For twice that day, from shore to shore, 

The gallant stag swam stoutly o'er. 

Few were the stragglers, following far, no 

That reached the lake of Vennachar; 

And when the Brigg of Turk was won. 

The headmost horseman rode alone. 

vn 

Alone, but with unbated zeal. 

That horseman plied the scourge and steel; 



Canto I] The ChaSC 7 

For Jaded now, and spent with toil, 

Embossed with foam and dark with soil, 

While every gasp with sobs he drew. 

The laboring stag strained full in view. 

Two dogs of black Saint Hubert's breed, 120 

Unmatched for courage, breath, and speed. 

Fast on his flying traces came. 

And all but won that desperate game; 

For, scarce a spear's length from his haunch, 

Vindictive toiled the bloodhounds stanch; 

Nor nearer might the dogs attain. 

Nor farther might the quarry strain. 

Thus up the margin of the lake. 

Between the precipice and brake, 

O'er stock and rock their race they take. 130 



vm 



The Hunter marked that mountain high, 

The lone lake's western boundary. 

And deemed the stag must turn to bay. 

Where that huge rampart barred the way; 

Already glorying in the prize, 

Measured his antlers with his eyes; 

For the death-wound and death-halloo 

Mustered his breath, his whinyard drew; — 

But thundering as he came prepared, 

With ready arm and weapon bared, 140 

The wily quarry shunned the shock, 

And turned him from the opposing rock; 

Then, dashing down a darksome glen. 

Soon lost to hound and Hunter's ken. 

In the deep Trosachs' wildest nook 

His solitary refuge took. 

There, while close couched the thicket shed 

Cold dews and wild flowers on his head. 



8 The Lady of the Lake [Canto i. 

He heard the baffled dogs in vain 

Rave through the hollow pass amain, 150 

Chiding the rocks that yelled again. 



IX 



Close on the hounds the Hunter came, 

To cheer them on the vanished gajne; 

But, stumbling in the rugged dell, 

The gallant horse exhausted fell. 

The impatient rider strove in vain 

To rouse him with the spur and rein, 

For the good steed, his labors o'er. 

Stretched his stiff limbs, to rise no more; 

Then, touched with pity and remorse, 160 

He sorrowed o'er the expiring horse. 

T little thought, when first thy rein 

I slacked upon the banks of Seine, 

That Highland eagle e'er should feed 

On thy fleet limbs, my matchless steed! 

Woe worth the chase, woe worth the day, 

That costs thy life, my gallant gray!' * 



Then through the dell his horn resounds, 

From vain pursuit to call the hounds. 

Back limped, with slow and crippled pace, 170 

The sulky leaders of the chase; 

Close to their master's side they pressed. 

With drooping tail and humbled crest; 

But still the dingle's hollow throat 

Prolonged the swelling bugle-note. 

The owlets started from their dream. 

The eagles answered with their scream. 



Canto I] The ChaSC 9 

Round and around the sounds were cast 

Till echo seemed an answering blast; 

And on the Hunter hied his way, 180 

To join some comrades of the day, 

Yet often paused, so strange the road, 

So wondrous were the scenes it showed. 

XI 

The western waves of ebbing day 

Rolled o'er the glen their level way; 

Each purple peak, each flinty spire. 

Was bathed in floods of living fire. 

But riot a setting beam could glow 

Within the dark ravines below. 

Where twined the path in shadow hid, 190 

Round many a rocky pyramid. 

Shooting abruptly from the dell 

Its thunder-splintered pinnacle; 

Round many an insulated mass. 

The native bulwarks of the pass, 

Huge as the tower which builders vain 

Presumptuous piled on Shinar's plain. 

The rocky summits, split and rent, 

Formed turret, dome, or battlement, 

Or seemed fantastically set 200 

With cupola or minaret. 

Wild crests as pagod ever decked, 

Or mosque of Eastern architect. 

Nor were these earth-born castles bare, 

Nor lacked they many a banner fair; 

For, from their shivered brows displayed, 

Far o'er the unfathomable glade. 

All twinkling with the dewdrop sheen, 

The brier-rose fell in streamers green. 

And creeping shrubs of thousand dyes 210 

Waved in the west-wind's summer sighs. 



10 The Lady of the Lake [Canto i. 

XII 

Boon nature scattered, free and wild, 

Each plant or flower, the mountain's child. 

Here eglantine embalmed the air. 

Hawthorn and hazel mingled there; 

The primrose pale and violet flower 

Found in each clift a narrow bower; 

Foxglove and nightshade, side by side, 

Emblems of punishment and pride, 

Grouped their dark hues with every stain 220 

The weather-beaten crags retain. 

With boughs that quaked at every breath, 

Gray birch and aspen wept beneath; 

Aloft, the ash and warrior oak 

Cast anchor in the rifted rock; 

And, higher yet, the pine-tree hung 

His shattered trunk, and frequent flung, 

Where seemed the cliffs to meet on high, 

His boughs athwart the narrowed sky. 

Highest of all, where white peaks gknced, 230 

Where glistening streamers waved and danced. 

The wanderer's eye could barely view 

The summer heaven's delicious blue; 

So wondrous wild, the whole might seem 

The scenery of a fairy dream. 

xm 

Onward, amid the copse 'gan peep 

A narrow inlet, still and deep. 

Affording scarce such breadth of brim 

As served the wild duck's brood to swim. 

Lost for a space, through thickets veering, 240 

But broader when again appearing, 

Tall rocks and tufted knolls their face 

Could on the dark-blue mirror trace; 



Canto I] The ChasC II 

And farther as the Hunter strayed, 

Still broader sweep its channels made. 

The shaggy mounds no longer stood 

Emerging from entangled wood, 

But, wave-encircled, seemed to float 

Like castle girdled with its moat; 

Yet broader floods extending still 250 

Divide them from their parent hill, 

Till each, retiring, claims to be 

An islet in an inland sea. 

XIV 

And now, to issue from the glen. 

No pathway meets the wanderer's ken, 

Unless he climb with footing nice 

A far-projecting precipice. 

The broom's tough roots his ladder made. 

The hazel saplings lent their aid; 

And thus an airy point he won, 260 

Where, gleaming with the setting sun, 

One burnished sheet of living gold. 

Loch Katrine lay beneath him rolled, 

In all her length far winding lay, 

With promontory, creek, and bay. 

And islands that, empurpled bright. 

Floated amid the livelier light. 

And mountains that like giants stand 

To sentinel enchanted land. 

High on the south, huge Ben venue 270 

Down to the lake in masses threw 

Crags, knolls, and mounds, confusedly hurled, 

The fragments of an earlier world; 

A wildering forest feathered o'er 

His ruined sides and summit hoar. 

While on the north, through middle air, 

Ben-an heaved high his forehead bare. 



12 The Lady of the Lake [Canto i. 

XV 

From the steep promontory gazed 
The stranger, raptured and amazed, 
And, What a scene were here,' he cried, 280 

Tor princely pomp or churchman's pride! 
On this bold brow, a lordly tower; 
In that soft vale, a lady's bower; 
On yonder meadow far away. 
The turrets of a cloister gray. 
How blithely might the bugle-horn 
Chide on the lake the lingering morn! 
How sweet at eve the lover's lute 
Chime when the groves were still and mute! 
And when the midnight moon should lave 290 

Her forehead in the silver wave. 
How solemn on the ear would come 
The holy matins' distant hum. 
While the deep peal's commanding tone 
Should wake, in yonder islet lone, 
A sainted hermit from his cell. 
To drop a bead with every knell! 
* And bugle, lute, and bell, and all 
Should each bewildered stranger call 
To friendly feast and lighted hall. 300 

XVI 

'Blithe were it then to wander here! 
But now — beshrew yon nimble deer — 
Like that same hermit's, thin and spare, 
The copse must give my evening fare; 
Some mossy bank my couch must be, 
Some rustling pak my canopy. 
Yet pass we that; the war and chase 
Give little choice of resting-place. 



The Chase 13 



310 



A summer night in greenwood spent 
Were but tomorrow's merriment. 
But hosts may in these wilds abound, 
Such as are better missed than found; 
To meet with Highland plunderers here 
Were worse than loss of steed or deer. 
I am alone; my bugle-strain 
May call some straggler of the train; 
Or, fall the worst that may betide, 
Ere now this falchion has been tried.' 

xvn 

But scarce again his horn he wound, 

When lo! forth starting at the sound, 320 

From underneath an aged oak 

That slanted from the islet rock, 

A damsel guider of its way, 

A little skiff shot to the bay, 

That round the promontory steep 

Led its deep line in graceful sweep, 

Eddying, in almost viewless wave, 

The weeping willow twig to lave. 

And kiss, with whispering sound and slow. 

The beach of pebbles bright as snow. 330 

The boat had touched this silver strand 

Just as the Hunter left his stand, 

And stood concealed amid the brake. 

To view this Lady of the Lake. 

The maiden paused, as if again 

She thought to catch the distant strain. 

With head upraised, and look intent. 

And eye and ear attentive bent. 

And locks flung back, and lips apart. 

Like monument of Grecian art, 340 

In listening mood she seemed to stand, 

The guardian Naiad of the strand. 



14 The Lady of the Lake [Canto i. 

XVIII 

And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace 

A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace 

Of finer form or lovelier face! 

What though the sun with ardent frown 

Had slightly tinged her cheek with brown, — 

The sportive toil, which, short and light. 

Had dyed her glowing hue so bright. 

Served too in hastier swell to show 350 

Short glimpses of a breast of snow. 

What though no rule of courtly grace 

To measured mood had trained her pace, — 

A foot more light, a step more true. 

Ne'er from the heath-flower dashed the dew; 

E'en the slight harebell raised its head. 

Elastic from her airy tread. 

What though upon her speech there hung 

The accents of the mountain tongue, — 

Those silver sounds, so soft, so dear, 360 

The listener held his breath to hear! 

XIX 

A chieftain's daughter seemed the maid; 

Her satin snood, her silken plaid. 

Her golden brooch, such birth betrayed. 

And seldom was a snood amid 

Such wild luxuriant ringlets hid. 

Whose glossy black to shame might bring 

The plumage of the raven's wing; 

And seldom o'er a breast so fair 

Mantled a plaid with modest care, 370 

And never brooch the folds combined 

Above a heart more good and kind. 

Her kindness and her worth to spy, 

You need but gaze on Ellen's eye; 



Canto I.J The Chase 15 

Not Katrine in her mirror blue 

Gives back the shaggy banks more true 

Than every free-born glance confessed 

The guileless movements of her breast, 

Whether joy danced in her dark eye, 

Or woe or pity claimed a sigh, 380 

Or filial love was glowing there, 

Or meek devotion poured a prayer, 

Or tale of injury called forth 

The indignant spirit of the North. 

One only passion unrevealed 

With maiden pride the maid concealed, 

Yet not less purely felt the flame; — 

O, need I tell that passion's name? 

XX 

Impatient of the silent horn. 

Now on the gale her voice was borne. 390 

Tather!' she cried; the rocks around 

Loved to prolong the gentle sound. 

Awhile she paused; no answer came. 

'Malcolm, was thine the blast?' The name 

Less resolutely uttered fell; 

The echoes could not catch the swell. 

*A stranger I,' the Huntsman said. 

Advancing from the hazel shade. 

The maid, alarmed, with hasty oar 

Pushed her light shallop from the shore, 400 

And when a space was gained between^ 

Closer she drew her bosom's screen; — 

So forth the startled swan would swing, 

So turn to prune his ruflied wing. 

Then safe, though fluttered and amazed, 

She paused, and on the stranger gazed. 

Not his the form, nor his the eye. 

That youthful maidens wont to fly. 



1 6 The Lady of the Lake [Canto i. 

XXI 

On his bold visage middle age 

Had slightly pressed its signet sage, 410 

Yet had not quenched the open truth 

And fiery vehemence of youth; 

Forward and frolic glee was there, 

The will to do, the soul to dare. 

The sparkling glance, soon blown to fire, 

Of hasty love or headlong ire. 

His limbs were cast in manly mould 

For hardy sports or contest bold; 

And though in peaceful garb arrayed. 

And weaponless except his blade, 420 

His stately mien as well implied 

A high-born heart, a martial pride, 

As if a baron's crest he wore. 

And sheathed in armor trode the shore. 

Slighting the petty need he showed, 

He told of his benighted road; 

His ready speech flowed fair and free. 

In phrase of gentlest courtesy, 

Yet seemed that tone and gesture bland 

Less used to sue than to command. 430 

xxn 

Awhile the maid the stranger eyed. 

And, reassured, at length replied 

That Highland halls were open still 

To wildered wanderers of the hill. 

*Nor think you unexpected come 

To yon lone isle, our desert home. 

Before the heath had lost the dew. 

This morn, a couch was pulled for you; 

On yonder mountain's purple head 

Have ptarmigan and heath-cock bled, 440 



The Chase 17 

And our broad nets have swept the mere, 

To furnish forth your evening cheer.' — 

'Now, by the rood, my lovely maid, 

Your courtesy has erred,' he said; 

'No right have I to claim, misplaced, 

The welcome of expected guest. 

A wanderer, here by fortune tost. 

My way, my friends, my courser lost, 

I ne'er before, believe me, fair, 

Have ever drawn your mountain air, 450 

Till on this lake's romantic strand 

I found a fay in fairy land!' 

xxin 

T well believe,' the maid replied, 

As her light skiff approached the side, — 

T well believe that ne'er before 

Your foot has trod Loch Katrine's shore; 

But yet, as far as yesternight, 

Old Allan-bane foretold your plight, — 

A gray-haired sire, whose eye intent 

Was on the visioned future bent. 460 

He saw your steed, a dappled gray, 

Lie dead beneath the birchen way; 

Painted exact your form and mien. 

Your hunting-suit of Lincoln green, 

That tasselled horn so gayly gilt, 

That falchion's crooked blade and hilt. 

That cap with heron plumage trim. 

And yon two hounds so dark and grim. 

He bade that all should ready be 

To grace a guest of fair degree; 470 

But light I held his prophecy, 

And deemed it was my father's horn 

Whose echoes o'er the lake were borne.' 



1 8 The Lady of the Lake icanto i. 

XXIV 

The stranger smiled. — 'Since to your home 

A destined errant-knight I come, 

Announced by prophet sooth and old, 

Doomed, doubtless, for achievement bold, 

I'll lightly front each high emprise 

For one kind glance of those bright eyes. 

Permit me first the task to guide 480 

Your fairy frigate o'er the tide.' 

The maid, with smile suppressed and sly, 

The toil unwonted saw him try; 

For seldom, sure, if e'er before. 

His noble hand had grasped an oar. 

Yet with main strength his strokes he drew, 

And o'er the lake the shallop flew; 

With heads erect and whimpering cry, 

The hounds behind their passage ply. 

Nor frequent does the bright oar break 490 

The darkening mirror of the lake 

Until the rocky isle they reach. 

And moor their shallop on the beach. 

k 

XXV 

The stranger viewed the shore around; 

'Twas all so close with copsewood bound, 

Nor track nor pathway might declare 

That human foot frequented there, 

Until the mountain maiden showed 

A clambering unsuspected road, 

That winded through the tangled screen 500 

And opened on a narrow green, 

Where weeping birch and willow round 

With their long fibres swept the ground. 

Here, for retreat in dangerous hour. 

Some chief had framed a rustic bower. 



Canto I.] The ChaSC 1 9 

XXVI 

It was a lodge of ample size, 

But strange of structure and device, 

Of such materials as around 

The workman's hand had readiest found. 

Lopped of their boughs, their hoar trunks bared, 510 

And by the hatchet rudely squared. 

To give the walls their destined height 

The sturdy oak and ash unite; 

While moss and clay and leaves combined 

To fence each crevice from the wind. 

The lighter pine-trees overhead 

Their slender length for rafters spread, 

And withered heath and rushes dry 

Supplied a russet canopy. 

Due westward, fronting to the green, 520 

A rural portico was seen. 

Aloft on native pillars borne. 

Of mountain fir with bark unshorn. 

Where Ellen's hand had taught to twine 

The ivy and Idaean vine. 

The clematis, the favored flower 

Which boasts the name of virgin-bower. 

And every hardy plant could bear 

Loch Katrine's keen and searching air. 

An instant in this porch she stayed, 530 

And gayly to the stranger said, 

'On heaven and on thy lady call. 

And enter the enchanted hallT 

xxvn 

*My hope, my heaven, my trust must be. 
My gentle guide, in following thee!' 
He crossed the threshold, — and a clang 
Of angry steel that instant rang. 



20 The Lady of the Lake [Canto i. 

To his bold brow his spirit rushed, 
But soon for vain alarm he blushed, 
When on the floor he saw displayed, 540 

Cause of the din, a naked blade 
Dropped from the sheath, that careless flun^ 
Upon a stag's huge antlers swung; 
For all around, the walls to grace, 
Hung trophies of the fight or chase 
A target there, a bugle here, 
A battle-axe, a hunting-spear. 
And broadswords, bows, and arrows store, 
With the tusked trophies of the boar. 
Here grins the wolf as when he died, 550 

And there the wild-cat's brindled hide 
The frontlet of the elk adorns, 
Or mantles o'er the bison's horns; 
Pennons and flags defaced and stained, 
That blackening streaks of blood retained, 
And deer-skins, dappled, dun, and white, 
With otter's fur and seal's unite, 
Tn rude and uncouth tapestry all. 
To garnish forth the sylvan hall. 

xxvni 

The wondering stranger round him gazed, 560 

And next the fallen weapon raised; 

Few were the arms whose sinewy strength 

Sufficed to stretch it forth at length. 

And as the brand he poised and swayed, 

^I never knew but one,' he said, 

Whose stalwart arm might brook to wield 

A blade like this in battle-field.' 

She sighed, then smiled and took the word: 

'You see the guardian champion's sword; 

As light it trembles in his hand 570 

As in my grasp a hazel wand. 



The Chase 2i 

My sire's tall form might grace the part 
Of Ferragus or Ascabart, 
But in the absent giant's hold 
Are women now, and menials old/ 

XXIX 

The mistress of the mansion came, 

Mature of age, a graceful dame. 

Whose easy step and stately port 

Had well become a princely court, 

To whom, though more than kindred knew, 580 

Young Ellen gave a mother's due. 

Meet welcome to her guest she made. 

And every courteous rite was paid 

That hospitality could claim. 

Though all unasked his birth and name. 

Such then the reverence to a guest. 

That fellest foe might join the feast. 

And from his deadliest foeman's door 

Unquestioned turn, the banquet o'er. 

At length his rank the stranger names, 590 

^The Knight of Snowdoun, James Fitz- James; 

Lord of a barren heritage. 

Which his brave sires, from age to age. 

By their good swords had held with toil. 

His sire had fallen in such turmoil. 

And he, God wot, was forced to stand 

Oft for his right with blade in hand. 

This morning with Lord Moray's train 

He chased a stalwart stag in vain, 

Outstripped his comrades, missed the deer, 600 

Lost his good steed, and wandered here.' 

XXX 

Fain would the Knight in turn require 
The name and state of Ellen's sire. 



22 The Lady of the Lake [Camo i. 

Well showed the elder lady's mien 

That courts and cities she had seen; 

Ellen, though more her looks displayed 

The simple grace of sylvan maid, 

In speech and gesture, form and face, 

Showed she was come of gentle race. 

'Twere strange in ruder rank to find 6io 

Such looks, such manners, and such mind. 

Each hint the Knight of Snowdoun gave. 

Dame Margaret heard with silence grave; 

Or Ellen, innocently gay. 

Turned all inquiry light away: — 

'Weird women, we! By dale and down 

We dwell, afar from tower and town. 

We stem the flood, we ride the blast, 

On wandering knights our spells we cast; 

While viewless minstrels touch the string, 620 

'Tis thus our charmed rhymes we sing.' 

She sung, and still a harp unseen 

Filled up the symphony between. 

XXXI 
SONG 

'Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er. 

Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking; 
Dream of battled fields no more, 

Days of danger, nights of waking. 
In our isle's enchanted hall. 

Hands unseen thy couch are strewing; 
Fairy strains of music fall, 630 

Every sense in slumber dewing. 
Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er. 
Dream of fighting fields no more; 
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, 
Morn of toil, nor night of waking. 



Canto I.J The ChaSC 2^ 

^No rude sound shall reach thine ear, 

Armor's clang or war-steed champing; 
Trump nor pibroch summon here 

Mustering clan or squadron tramping. 
Yet the lark's shrill fife may come 640 

At the daybreak from the fallow, 
And the bittern sound his drum, 

Booming from the sedgy shallow. 
Ruder sounds shall none be near, 
Guards nor warders challenge here, 
Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing, 
Shouting clans or squadrons stamping.' 

XXXII 

She paused, — then, blushing, led the lay 

To grace the stranger of the day. 

Her mellow notes awhile prolong 650 

The cadence of the flowing song, 

Till to her lips in measured frame 

The minstrel verse spontaneous came. 

SONG CONTINUED 

^Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done; 

While our slumbrous spells assail ye. 
Dream not, with the rising sun. 

Bugles here shall sound reveille. 
Sleep! the deer is in his den; 

Sleep! thy hounds are by thee lying; 
Sleep! nor dream m yonder glen 660 

How thy gallant steed lay dying. 
Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done; 
Think not of the rising sun. 
For at dawning to assail ye 
Here no bugles sound reveille.' 



24 The Lady of the Lake (Canto i. 

xxxni 

The hall was cleared, — the stranger's bed 

Was there of mountain heather spread, 

Where oft a hundred guests had lain, 

And dreamed their forest sports again. 

But vainly did the heath-flower shed 670 

Its moorland fragrance round his head; 

Not Ellen's spell had lulled to rest 

The fever of his troubled breast. 

In broken dreams the image rose 

Of varied perils, pains, and woes. 

His steed now flounders in the brake, 

Now sinks his barge upon the lake; 

Now, leader of a broken host. 

His standard falls, his honor's lost. 

Then, — from my couch may heavenly might 680 

Chase that worst phantom of the night! — 

Again returned the scenes of youth, 

Of confident, undoubting truth; 

Again his soul he interchanged 

With friends whose hearts were long estranged. 

They come, in dim procession led. 

The cold, the faithless, and the dead; 

As warm each hand, each brow as gay, 

As if they parted yesterday. 

And doubt distracts him at the view, — 6qo 

O were his senses false or true? 

Dreamed he of death or broken vow, 

Or is it all a vision now? 

XXXIV 

At length, with Ellen in a grove 
He seemed to walk and speak of love. 
She listened with a blush and sigh; 
His suit was warm, his hopes were high. 



Canto I.J The Chase . 25 

He sought her yielded hand to clasp, 

And a cold gauntlet met his grasp. 

The phantom's sex was changed and gone, 700 

Upon its head a helmet shone; 

Slowly enlarged to giant size, 

With darkened cheek and threatening eyes, 

The grisly visage, stern and hoar. 

To Ellen still a likeness bore. 

He woke, and, panting with affright. 

Recalled the vision of the night. 

The hearth's decaying brands were red. 

And deep and dusky lustre shed, 

Half showing, half concealing, all 710 

The uncouth trophies of the hall. 

Mid those the stranger fixed his eye 

Where that huge falchion hung on high, 

And thoughts on thoughts, a countless throng, 

Rushed, chasing countless thoughts along, 

Until, the giddy whirl to cure. 

He rose and sought the moonshine pure. 

XXXV 

The wild rose, eglantine, and broom 

Wasted around their rich perfume; 

The birch-trees wept in fragrant balm; 720 

The aspens slept beneath the calm; 

The silver light, with quivering glance. 

Played on the water's still expanse. 

Wild were the heart whose passion's sway 

Could rage beneath the sober ray! 

He felt its calm, that warrior guest, 

While thus he communed with his breast: . 

Why is it at each turn I trace 

Some memory of that exiled race? 

Can I not mountain maiden spy 730 

But she must bear the Douglas eye? 



26 ' The Lady of the Lake [Canto i. 

Can I not view a Highland brand 

But it must match the Douglas hand? 

Can I not frame a fevered dream 

But still the Douglas is the theme? 

I'll dream no more, — by manly mind 

Not even in sleep is will resigned. 

My midnight orisons said o'er, 

I'll turn to rest, and dream no more.' 

His midnight orisons he told, 740 

A prayer with every bead of gold. 

Consigned to heaven his cares and woes, 

And sunk in undisturbed repose. 

Until the heath-cock shrilly crew. 

And morning dawned on Benvenue. 




Loch Katrine and Ellen's Isle 



CANTO SECOND 



THE ISLAND 



At morn the black-cock trims his jetty wing, 

'Tis morning prompts the linnet's blithest lay, 
All Nature's children feel the matin spring 

Of life reviving, with reviving day; 
And while yon little bark glides down the bay, 

Wafting the stranger on his way again. 
Morn's genial influence roused a minstrel gray. 

And sweetly o'er the lake was heard thy strain. 
Mixed with the sounding harp, O white-haired Allan-bane! 

27 



28 The Lady of the Lake [Canto ii. 

II 

" SONG 

'Not faster yonder rowers' might lo 

Flings from their oars the spray, 
Not faster yonder rippling bright, 
That tracks the shallop's course in light, 

Melts in the lake away, 
Than men from memory erase 
The benefits of former days. 
Then, stranger, go! good speed the while, 
Nor think again of the lonely isle. 

^High place to thee in royal court, 

High place in battled line, 20 

Good hawk and hound for sylvan sport! 
Where beauty sees the brave resort, 

The honored meed be thine! 
True be thy sword, thy friend sincere, 
Thy lady constant, kind, and dear. 
And lost in love's and friendship's smile 
Be memory of the lonely isle! 

Ill 

SONG CONTINUED 

'But if beneath yon southern sky 

A plaided stranger roam. 
Whose drooping crest and stifled sigh, 30 

And sunken cheek and heavy eye 

Pine for his Highland home; 
Then, warrior, then be thine to show 
The care that soothes a wanderer's woe; 
Remember then thy hap erewhile, 
A stranger in the lonely isle. 
Or if on life's uncertain main 

Mishap shall mar thy sail; 



Canto II.] The Island 29 

If faithful, wise, and brave in vain, 

Woe, want, and exile thou sustain 40 

Beneath the fickle gale; 
Waste not a sigh on fortune changed, 
On thankless courts, or friends estranged. 
But come where kindred worth shall smile. 
To greet thee in the lonely isle.' 

IV 

As died the sounds upon the tide, 

The shallop reached the mainland side; 

And ere his onward way he took, 

The stranger cast a lingering look. 

Where easily his eye might reach 50 

The Harper on the islet beach. 

Reclined against a blighted tree. 

As wasted, gray, and worn as he. 

To minstrel meditation given. 

His reverend brow was raised to heaven, 

As from the rising sun to claim 

A sparkle of inspiring flame. 

His hand, reclined upon the wire. 

Seemed watching the awakening fire. 

So still he sat as those who wait 60 

Till judgment speak the doom of fate; 

So still, as if no breeze might dare 

To lift one lock of hoary hair; 

So still, as life itself were fled 

In the last sound his harp had sped. 



Upon a rock with lichens wild. 
Beside him Ellen sat and smiled. 
Smiled she to see the stately drake 
Lead forth his fleet upon the lake. 



30 The Lady of the Lake [Canto ii. 

While her vexed spaniel from the beach 70 

Bayed at the prize beyond his reach? 

Yet tell me, then, the maid who knows. 

Why deepened on her cheek the rose? 

Forgive, forgive. Fidelity! 

Perchance the maiden smiled to see 

Yon parting lingerer wave adieu, 

And stop and turn to wave anew; 

And, lovely ladies, ere your ire 

Condemn the heroine of my lyre, 

Show me the fair would scorn to spy 80 

And prize such conquest of her eye! 

VI 

While yet he loitered on the spot, 

It seemed as Ellen marked him not; 

But when he turned him to the glade. 

One courteous parting sign she made; 

And after, oft the knight would say 

That not when prize of festal day 

Was dealt him by the brightest fair 

Who e'er wore jewel in her hair, 

So highly did his bosom swell 90 

As at that simple mute farewell. 

Now with a trusty mountain-guide, 

And his dark stag-hounds by his side. 

He parts. The maid, unconscious still, 

Watched him wind slowly round the hill; 

But when his stately form was hid. 

The guardian in her bosom chid, — 

*Thy Malcolm! vain and selfish maid!' 

CTwas thus upbraiding conscience said) 

*Not so had Malcolm idly hung 100 

On the smooth phrase of Southern tongue; 

Not so had Malcolm strained his eye 

Another step than thine to spy. — 



Canto II.] The Island 31 

'Wake, Allan-bane/ aloud she cried 

To the old minstrel by her side, — 

'Arouse thee from thy moody dream! 

I'll give thy harp heroic theme. 

And warm thee with a noble name. 

Pour forth the glory of the Graeme!' 

Scarce from her lip the word had rushed, no 

When deep the conscious maiden blushed; 

For of his clan, in hall and bower. 

Young Malcolm Graeme was held the flower. 

vn 

The minstrel waked his harp, — three times 

Arose the well-known martial chimes, 

And thrice their high heroic pride 

In melancholy murmurs died. 

'Vainly thou bidst, O noble maid,' 

Clasping his withered hands, he said, 

'Vainly thou bidst me wake the strain, 120 

Though all unwont to bid in vain. 

Alas! than mine a mightier hand 

Has tuned my harp, my strings has spanned! 

I touch the chords of joy, but low 

And mournful answer notes of woe; 

And the proud march which victors tread 

Sinks in the wailing for the dead. 

O, well for me, if mine alone 

That dirge's deep prophetic tone! 

If, as my tuneful fathers said, 130 

This harp, which erst Saint Modan swayed. 

Can thus its master's fate foretell. 

Then welcome be the minstrel's knell! 

VIII 

'But ah! dear lady, thus it sighed 
The eve thy sainted mother died; 



32 The Lady of the Lake [Canto u. 

And such the sounds which, while I strove 

To wake a lay of war or love, 

Came marring all the festal mirth, 

Appalling me who gave them birth, 

And, disobedient to my call, 140 

Wailed loud through Bothwell's bannered hall, 

Ere Douglases, to ruin driven. 

Were exiled from their native heaven. 

O! if yet worse mishap and woe 

My master's house must undergo, 

Or aught but weal to Ellen fair 

Brood in these accents of despair. 

No future bard, sad Harp! shall fling 

Triumph or rapture from thy string; 

One short, one final strain shall flow, 150 

Fraught with unutterable woe. 

Then shivered shall thy fragments lie, 

Thy master cast him down and die!' 



rx 



Soothing she answered him: * Assuage, 

Mine honored friend, the fears of age. 

All melodies to thee are known 

That harp has rung or pipe has blown, 

In Lowland vale or Highland glen. 

From Tweed to Spey; what marvel, then. 

At times unbidden notes should rise, 160 

Confusedly bound in memory's ties. 

Entangling, as they rush along. 

The war-march with the funeral song? 

Small ground is now for boding fear; 

Obscure, but safe, we rest us here. 

My sire, in native virtue great. 

Resigning lordship, lands, and state, 



II.] The Island 33 

Not then to fortune more resigned 

Than yonder oak might give the wind; 

The graceful foHage storms may reave, 170 

The noble stem they cannot grieve. 

For me' — she stooped, and, looking round, 

Plucked a blue harebell from the ground, — 

Tor me, whose memory scarce conveys 

An image of more splendid days, 

This little flower that loves the lea 

May well my simple emblem be. 

It drinks heaven's dew as blithe as rose 

That in the King's own garden grows; 

And when I place it in my hair, 180 

Allan, a bard is bound to swear 

He ne'er saw coronet so fair.' 

Then pla>iully the chaplet wild 

She wreathed in her dark locks, and smiled. 



Her smile, her speech, with winning sway 

Wiled the old Harper's mood away. 

With such a look as hermits throw 

When angels stoop to soothe their woe, 

He gazed, till fond regret and pride 

Thrilled to a tear, then thus replied: 190 

loveliest and best! thou little know'st 

The rank, the honors thou hast lost! 

O, might I live to see thee grace, 

In Scotland's court, thy birthright place, 

To see my favorite's step advance 

The lightest in the courtly dance. 

The cause of every gallant's sigh, 

And leading star of every eye. 

And theme of every minstrel's art, 

The Lady of the Bleeding Heart!' 200 



34 The Lady of the Lake [Canto ii. 

XI 

Tair dreams are these/ the maiden cried, — 
Light was her accent, yet she sighed, — 
'Yet is this mossy rock to me 
Worth splendid chair and canopy; 
Nor would my footstep spring more gay 
In courtly dance than blithe strathspey. 
Nor half so pleased mine ear incline 
To royal minstrel's lay as thine. 
And then for suitors proud and high, 
To bend before my conquering eye, 210 

Thou, flattering bard! thyself wilt say 
That grim Sir Roderick owns its sway. 
The Saxon scourge, Clan-Alpine^s pride, 
The terror of Loch Lomond's side, 
Would, at my suit, thou know'st, delay 
A Lennox foray — for a day/ 

XII 

The ancient bard her glee repressed. 

Til hast thou chosen theme for jest! 

For who, through all this western wild. 

Named Black Sir Roderick e'er, and smiled? 220 

In Holy-Rood a knight he slew. 

I saw, when back the dirk he drew. 

Courtiers give place before the stride 

Of the undaunted homicide; 

And since, though outlawed, hath his hand 

Full sternly kept his mountain land. 

Who else dared give — ah! woe the day. 

That I such hated truth should say! — 

The Douglas, like a stricken deer. 

Disowned by every noble peer, 230 

Even the rude refuge we have here? 

Alas, this wild marauding Chief 

Alone might hazard our relief. 



Canto II.] The Island 35 

And now thy maiden charms expand, 

Looks for his guerdon in thy hand; 

Full soon may dispensation sought, 

To back his suit, from Rome be brought. 

Then, though an exile on the hill. 

Thy father, as the Douglas, still 

Be held in reverence and fear; 240 

And though to Roderick thou'rt so dear 

That thou mightst guide with silken thread, 

Slave of thy will, this chieftain dread, 

Yet, O loved maid, thy mirth refrain! 

Thy hand is on a lion's mane/ 



xrn 



^Minstrel,' the maid replied, and high 

Her father's soul glanced from her eye, 

^My debts to Roderick's house I know. 

All that a mother could bestow 

To Lady Margaret's care I owe, 250 

Since first an orphan in the wild 

She sorrowed o'er her sister's child. 

To her brave chieftain son, from ire 

Of Scotland's king who shrouds my sire, 

A deeper, holier debt is owed; 

And, could I pay it with my blood, 

Allan! Sir Roderick should command 

My blood, my life, — but not my hand. 

Rather will Ellen Douglas dwell 

A votaress in Maronnan's cell; -260 

Rather through realms beyond the sea, 

Seeking the world's cold charity. 

Where ne'er was spoke a Scottish word. 

And ne'er the name of Douglas heard. 

An outcast pilgrim will she rove. 

Than wed the man she cannot love. 



36 The Lady of the Lake [Canto 11. 

XIV 

*Thou shak'st, good friend, thy tresses gray, — 

That pleading look, what can it say 

But what I own? — I grant him brave, 

But wild as Bracklinn's thundering wave; 270 

And generous, — save vindictive mood 

Or jealous transport chafe his blood. 

I grant him true to friendly band, 

As his claymore is to his hand; 

But O! that very blade of steel 

More mercy for a foe would feel. 

I grant him liberal, to fling 

Among his clan the wealth they bring. 

When back by lake and glen they wind, 

And in the Lowland leave behind, 280 

Where once some pleasant hamlet stood, 

A mass of ashes slaked with blood. 

The hand that for my father fought 

I honor, as his daughter ought; 

But can I clasp it reeking red 

From peasants slaughtered in their shed? 

No! wildly while his virtues gleam. 

They make his passions darker seem. 

And flash along his spirit high 

Like lightning o'er the midnight sky. 290 

While yet a child, — and children know, 

Instinctive taught, the friend and foe, — 

I shuddered at his brow of gloom. 

His shadowy plaid and sable plume; 

A maiden grown, I ill could bear 

His haughty mien and lordly air; 

But if thou join'st a suitor's claim 

In serious mood to Roderick's name, 

I thrill with anguish! or, if e'er 

A Douglas knew the word, with fear. 300 



Canto II.] The Island 37 

To change such odious theme were best, — 
What think'st thou of our stranger guest?' 

XV 

^What think I of him? — Woe the while 

That brought such wanderer to our isle! 

Thy father's battle-brand, of yore 

For Tine-man forged by fairy lore, 

What time he leagued, no longer foes, 

His Border spears with Hotspur's bows, 

Did, self-unscabbarded, foreshow 

The footstep of a secret foe. 310 

If courtly spy hath harbored here, 

What may we for the Douglas fear? 

What for this island, deemed of old 

Clan-Alpine's last and surest hold? 

If neither spy nor foe, I pray 

What yet may jealous Roderick say? — 

Nay, wave not thy disdainful head! 

Bethink thee of the discord dread 

That kindled when at Beltane game 

Thou ledst the dance with Malcolm Graeme; 320 

Still, though thy sire the peace renewed. 

Smoulders in Roderick's breast the feud. 

Beware! — But hark! what sounds are these? 

My dull ears catch no faltering breeze, 

No weeping birch nor aspens wake, 

Nor breath is dimpling in the lake; 

Still is the canna's hoary beard. 

Yet, by my minstrel faith, I heard — 

And hark again! some pipe of war 

Sends the bold pibroch from afar.' 330 

XVI 

Far up the lengthened lake were spied 
Four darkening specks upon the tide, 



38 The Lady of the Lake [Canto ii. 

That, slow enlarging on the view, 

Four manned and masted barges grew, 

And, bearing downwards from Glengyle, 

Steered full upon the lonely isle; 

The point of Brianchoil they passed. 

And, to the windward as they cast. 

Against the sun they gave to shine 

The bold Sir Roderick's bannered Pine. 340 

Nearer and nearer as they bear, 

Spears, pikes, and axes flash in air. 

Now might you see the tartans brave. 

And plaids and plumage dance and wave; 

Now see the bonnets sink and rise, 

As his tough oar the rower plies; 

See, flashing at each sturdy stroke. 

The wave ascending into smoke; 

See the proud pipers on the bow. 

And mark the gaudy streamers flow 350 

From their loud chanters down, and sweep 

The furrowed bosom of the deep. 

As, rushing through the lake amain. 

They plied the ancient Highland strain. 

xvn 

Ever, as on they bore, more loud 

And louder rung the pibroch proud. 

At first the sounds, by distance tame, 

Mellowed along the waters came. 

And, lingering long by cape and bay, 

Wailed every harsher note away; 360 

Then bursting bolder on the ear. 

The clan's shrill Gathering they could hear, 

Those thrilling sounds that call the might 

Of old Clan-Alpine to the fight. 

Thick beat the rapid notes, as when 

The mustering hundreds shake the glen, 



Canto ii.j The Island 39 

And hurrying at the signal dread, 

The battered earth returns their tread. 

Then prelude light, of livelier tone. 

Expressed their merry marching on, 370 

Ere peal of closing battle rose. 

With mingled outcry, shrieks, and blows; 

And mimic din of stroke and ward. 

As broadsword upon target jarred; 

And groaning pause, ere yet again, 

Condensed, the battle yelled amain. 

The rapid charge, the rallying shout, 

Retreat borne headlong into rout, 

And bursts of triumph, to declare 

Clan-Alpine's conquest — all were there. 380 

Nor ended thus the strain, but slow 

Sunk in a moan prolonged and low. 

And changed the conquering clarion swell 

For wild lament o'er those that fell. 



xvni 

The war-pipes ceased, but lake and hill 

Were busy with their echoes still; 

And, when they slept, a vocal strain 

Bade their hoarse chorus wake again. 

While loud a hundred clansmen raise 

Their voices in their Chieftain's praise. 390 

Each boatman, bending to his oar. 

With measured sweep the burden bore, 

In such wild cadence as the breeze 

Makes through December's leafless trees. 

The chorus first could Allan know, 

'Roderick Vich Alpine, ho! iro!' 

And near, and nearer as they rowed, 

Distinct the martial ditty flowed. 



40 The Lady of the Lake . icanto ii. 

XIX 
BOAT SONG. 

Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances! 

Honored and blessed be the ever-green Pine! 400 

Long may the tree, in his banner that glances, 
Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line! 
Heaven send it happy dew. 
Earth lend it sap anew, 
Gayly to bourgeon and broadly to grow, 
While every Highland glen 
Sends our shout back again, 
'Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!' 

Ours is no sapl'ng, chance-sown by the fountain. 

Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade; 410 

When the whirlwind has stripped every leaf on the mountain. 
The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in her shade. 

Moored in the rifted rock, 

Proof to the tempest's shock. 
Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow; 

Menteith and Breadalbane, then. 

Echo his praise again, 
^Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!' 

XX 

Proudly our pibroch has thrilled in Glen Fruin, 

And Bannochar's groans to our slogan replied; 420 

Glen Luss and Ross-dhu, they are smoking in ruin, 
And the best of Loch Lomond lie dead on her side. 

Widow and Saxon maid 

Long shall lament our raid. 
Think of Clan-Alpine with fear and with woe; 

Lennox and Leven-glen 

Shake when they hear again, 
^Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!' 



Canto II.] The Island 41 

Row, vassals, row, for the pride of the Highlands! 

Stretch to your oars for the ever-green Pine ! 430 

O that the rosebud that graces yon islands 

Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine! 

O that some seedling gem, 

Worthy such noble stem. 
Honored and blessed in their shadow might grow! 

Loud should Clan-Alpine then 

Ring from her deepmost glen, 
*Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroel' 

XXI 

With all her joyful female band 

Had Lady Margaret sought the strand. 440 

Loose on the breeze their tresses flew. 

And high their snowy arms they threw, 

As echoing back with shrill acclaim. 

And chorus wild, the Chieftain's name; 

While, prompt to please with mother's art 

The darling passion of his heart, 

The Dame called Ellen to the strand 

To greet her kinsman ere he land. 

^Come, loiterer, come! a Douglas thou. 

And shun to wreathe a victor's brow?' 450 

Reluctantly and slow, the maid 

The unwelcome summoning obeyed. 

And, when a distant bugle rung, 

In the mid-path aside she sprung. 

'List, Allan-bane! From mainland cast 

I hear my father's signal blast. 

Be ours,' she cried, 'the skiff to guide 

And waft him from the mountain-side.' 

Then, like a sunbeam, swift and bright. 

She darted to her shallop light, 460 

And, eagerly while Roderick scanned. 

For her dear form, his mother's band. 



42 The Lady of the Lake [Canto ii. 

The islet far behind her lay, 
And she had landed in the bay. 



XXII 



Some feelings are to mortals given 

With less of earth in them than heaven; 

And if there be a human tear 

From passion's dross refined and clear, 

A tear so limpid and so meek 

It would not stain an angel's cheek, 470 

'Tis that which pious fathers shed 

Upon a duteous daughter's head! 

And as the Douglas to his breast 

His darling Ellen closely pressed, 

Such holy drops her tresses steeped, 

Though 'twas an hero's eye that weeped. 

Nor while on Ellen's faltering tongue 

Her filial welcomes crowded hung, 

Marked she that fear — affection's proof — 

Still held a graceful youth aloof; 480 

No! not till Douglas named his name, 

Although the youth was Malcolm Graeme. 

xxm 

Allan, with wistful look the while. 

Marked Roderick landing on the isle; 

His master piteously he eyed. 

Then gazed upon the Chieftain's pride. 

Then dashed with hasty hand away 

From his dimmed eye the gathering spray; 

And Douglas, as his hand he laid 

On Malcolm's shoulder, kindly said: 490 

*Canst thou, young friend, no meaning spy 

In my poor follower's glistening eye? 



Canto ti] The Island 43 

I'll tell thee: — he recalls the day 

When in my praise he led the lay 

O'er the arched gate of Bothwell proud, 

While many a minstrel answered loud, 

When Percy's Norman pennon, won 

In bloody field, before me shone, 

And twice ten knights, the least a name 

As mighty as yon Chief may claim, 500 

Gracing my pomp, behind me came. 

Yet trust me, Malcolm, not so proud 

Was I of all that marshalled crowd. 

Though the waned crescent owned my might. 

And in my train trooped lord and knight. 

Though Blantyre hymned her holiest lays. 

And Bothwell's bards ilung back my praise^ 

As when this old man's silent tear. 

And this poor maid's affection dear, 

A welcome give more kind and true 510 

Than aught my better fortunes knew. 

Forgive, my friend, a father's boast, — 

O, it out-beggars all I lostl' 



xxrv 

Delightful praise! — like summer rose, 

That brighter in the dewdrop glows. 

The bashful maiden's cheek appeared, 

For Douglas spoke, and Malcolm heard. 

The flush of shamefaced joy to hide. 

The hounds, the hawk her cares divide; 

The loved caresses of the maid 520 

The dogs with crouch and whimper paid; 

And, at her whistle, on her hand 

The falcon took his favorite stand. 

Closed his dark wing, relaxed his eye. 

Nor, though unhooded, sought to fly. 



44 The Lady of the Lake [Canto ii. 

And, trust, while in such guise she stood, 

Like fabled Goddess of the wood. 

That if a father's partial thought 

O'erweighed her worth and beauty aught, 

Well might the lover's judgment fail 530 

To balance with a juster scale; 

For with each secret glance he stole. 

The fond enthusiast sent his soul. 



XXV 



Of stature fair, and slender frame, 

But firmly knit, was Malcolm Graeme. 

The belted plaid and tartan hose 

Did ne'er more graceful limbs disclose; 

His flaxen hair, of sunny hue, 

Curled closely round his bonnet blue. 

Trained to the chase, his eagle eye 540 

The ptarmigan in snow could spy; 

Each pass, by mountain, lake, and heath, 

He knew, through Lennox and Menteith; 

Vain was the bound of dark-brown doe 

When Malcolm bent his sounding bow, 

And scarce that doe, though winged with fear, 

Outstripped in speed the mountaineer. 

Right up Ben Lomond could he press 

And not a sob his toil confess. 

His form accorded with a mind 550 

Lively and ardent, frank and kind; 

A blither heart, till Ellen came. 

Did never love nor sorrow tame; 

It danced as lightsome in his breast 

As played the feather on his crest. 

Yet friends who nearest knew the youth, 

His scorn of wrong, his zeal for truth. 



Canto 11] The Island 45 

And bards, who saw his features bold 

When kindled by the tales of old, 

Said, were that, youth to manhood grown, 560 

Not long should Roderick Dhu's renown 

Be foremost voiced by mountain fame, 

But quail to that of Malcolm Graeme. 

XXVI 

Now back they wend their watery way, 

And, ^O my sire!' did Ellen say, 

Why urge thy chase so far astray? 

And why so late returned? And why* — 

The rest was in her speaking eye. 

*My child, the chase I follow far, 

'Tis mimicry of «noble war; 570 

And with that gallant pastime reft 

Were all of Douglas I have left. 

I met young Malcolm as I strayed 

Far eastward, in Glenfinlas' shade; 

Nor strayed I safe, for all around 

Hunters and horsemen scoured the ground. 

This youth, though still a royal ward, 

Risked life and land to be my guard, 

And through the passes of the wood 

Guided my steps, not unpursued; 580 

And Roderick shall his welcome make, 

Despite old spleen, for Douglas' sake. 

Then must he seek Strath-Endrick glen, 

Nor peril aught for me again.' 

XXVII 

Sir Roderick, who to meet them came, 
Reddened at sight of Malcolm Graeme, 
Yet not in action, word, or eye 
Failed aught in hospitality. 



46 The Lady of the Lake [Canto ii. 

In talk and sport they whiled away 

The morning of that summer day; 590 

But at high noon a courier light 

Held secret parley with the knight, 

Whose moody aspect soon declared 

That evil were the news he heard. 

Deep thought seemed toiling in his head; 

Yet was the evening banquet made 

Ere he assembled round the flame 

His mother, Douglas, and the Graeme, 

And Ellen too; then cast around 

His eyes, then fixed them on the ground, 600 

As studying phrase that might avail 

Best to convey unpleasant tale. 

Long with his dagger's hilt he played, 

Then raised his haughty brow, and said: — 

XXVIII 

*Short be my speech; — nor time affords. 

Nor my plain temper, glozing words. 

Kinsman and father, — if such name 

Douglas vouchsafe to Roderick's claim; 

Mine honored mother; — Ellen, — why. 

My cousin, turn away thine eye? — . 610 

And Graeme, in whom I hope to know 

Full soon a noble friend or foe. 

When age shall give thee thy command. 

And leading in thy native land, — 

List all! — The King's vindictive pride 

Boasts to have tamed the Border-side, 

Where chiefs, with hound and hawk who came 

To share their monarch's sylvan game. 

Themselves in bloody toils were snared. 

And when the banquet they prepared, 620 

And wide their loyal portals flung. 

O'er their own gateway struggling hung. 



Canto iij The Island 47 

Loud cries their blood from Meggat's mead, 

From Yarrow braes and banks of Tweed, 

Where the lone streams of Ettrick glide. 

And from the silver Teviot^s side; 

The dales, where martial clans did ride. 

Are now one sheep-walk, waste and wide. 

This tyrant of the Scottish throne. 

So faithless and so ruthless known, 630 

Now hither comes; his end the same. 

The same pretext of sylvan game. 

What grace for Highland Chiefs, judge ye, 

By fate of Border chivalry. 

Yet more; amid Glenfinlas' green, 

Douglas, thy stately form was seen. 

This by espial sure I know. 

Your counsel in the ^treight I show.' 



XXIX 

Ellen and Margaret fearfully 

Sought comfort in ^ach other's eye, 640 

Then turned their ghastly look, each one, 

This to her sire, that to her son. 

The hasty color went and came 

In the bold cheek of Malcolm Graeme, 

But from his glance it well appeared 

'Twas but for Ellen that he feared; 

While, sorrowful, but undismayed. 

The Douglas thus his counsel said: 

^Brave Roderick, though the tempest roar, 

It may but thunder and pass o'er; 650 

Nor will I here remain an hour, 

To draw the lightning on thy bower; 

For well thou know'st, at this gray head 

The royal bolt were fiercest sped. 



48 The Lady of the Lake [Canto 11. 

For thee, who, at thy King's command, 

Canst aid him with a gallant band, 

Submission, homage, humbled pride 

Shall turn the Monarch's wrath aside. 

Poor remnants of the Bleeding Heart, 

Ellen and I will seek apart , 660 

The refuge of some forest cell. 

There, like the hunted quarry, dwell. 

Till on the mountain and the moor 

The stern pursuit be passed and o'er.' 



XXX 

'No, by mine honor,' Roderick said, 

*So help me Heaven, and my good blade! 

No, never! Blasted be yon Pine, 

My father's ancient crest and mine. 

If from its shade in danger part 

The lineage of the Bleeding Heart! 670 

Hear my blunt speech: Grant me this maid 

To wife, thy counsel to mine aid; 

To Douglas, leagued with Roderick Dhu, 

Will friends and allies flock enow; 

Like cause of doubt, distrust, and grief, 

Will bind to us each Western Chief. 

When the loud pipes my bridal tell, 

The Links of Forth shall hear the knell, 

The guards shall start in Stirling's porch; 

And when I light the nuptial torch, • 680 

A thousand villages in flames 

Shall scare the slumbers of King James! — 

Nay, Ellen, blench not thus away. 

And, mother, cease these signs, I pray; 

I meant not all my heat might say. 

Small need of inroad or of fight. 

When the sage Douglas may unite 



Canto il] The Island 49 

Each mountain clan in friendly band 

To guard the passes of their land, 

Till the foiled King from pathless glen 690 

Shall bootless turn him home again.' 

XXXI 

There are who have, at midnight hour, 

In slumber scaled a dizzy tower. 

And, on the verge that beetled o'er 

The ocean tide's incessant roar. 

Dreamed calmly out their dangerous dream, 

Till wakened by the morning beam; 

When, dazzled by the eastern glow. 

Such startler cast his glance below. 

And saw unmeasured depth around, " 700 

And heard unintermitted sound. 

And thought the battled fence so frail, 

It waved like cobweb in the gale; 

Amid his senses' giddy wheel, 

Did he not desperate impulse feel. 

Headlong to plunge himself below, 

And meet the worst his fears foreshow? 

Thus Ellen, dizzy and astound. 

As sudden ruin yawned around. 

By crossing terrors wildly tossed, 710 

Still for the Douglas fearing most. 

Could scarce the desperate thought withstand 

To buy his safety with her hand. 

xxxn 

Such purpose dread could Malcolm spy 
In Ellen's quivering lip and eye. 
And eager rose to speak, — but ere 
His tongue could hurry forth his fear, 



50 The Lady of the Lake [canto ti. 

Had Douglas marked the hectic strife, 

Where death seemed combating with life; 

For to her cheek, in feverish flood, 720 

One instant rushed the throbbing blood, 

Then, ebbing back, with sudden sway, 

Left its domain as wan as clay. 

^Roderick, enough! enough!' he cried 

*My daughter cannot be thy bride; 

Not that the blush to wooer dear, 

Nor paleness that of maiden fear. 

It may not be, — forgive her^ Chief, 

Nor hazard aught for our relief. 

Against his sovereign, Douglas ne^er 730 

Will level a rebellious spear. 

'Twas I that taught his youthful hand 

To rein a steed and wield a brand; 

I see him yet, the princely boy! 

Not Ellen more my pride and joy; 

I love him still, despite my wrongs 

By hasty wrath and slanderous tongues. 

O, seek the grace you well may find, 

Without a cause to mine combined!' 

XXXIII 

Twice through the hall the Chieftain strode. 740 

The waving of his tartans broad. 

And darkened brow, where wounded pride 

With ire and disappointment vied, 

Seemed, by the torch's gloomy light. 

Like the ill Demon of the night. 

Stooping his pinions' shadowy sway 

Upon the nighted pilgrim's way. 

But, unrequited Love! thy dart 

Plunged deepest its envenomed smart, 

And Roderick, with thine anguish stung, 750 

At length the hand of Douglas wrung, 



Canto II.] The Island 51 

While eyes that mocked at tears before 

With bitter drops were running o'er. 

The death-pangs of long-cherished hope 

Scarce in that ample breast had scope, 

But, struggling with his spirit proud, 

Convulsive heaved its checkered shroud, 

While every sob — so mute were all — 

Was heard distinctly through the hall. . 

The son's despair, the mother's look, 760 

111 might the gentle Ellen brook; 

She rose, and to her side there came, 

To aid her parting steps, the Graeme. 

XXXIV 

Then Roderick from the Douglas broke — 

As flashes flame through sable smoke. 

Kindling its wreaths, long, dark, and low, 

To one broad blaze of ruddy glow, 

So the deep anguish of despair 

Burst, in fierce jealousy, to air. 

With stalwart grasp his hand he laid 770 

On Malcolm's breast and belted plaid. 

^Back, beardless boy!' he sternly said; 

'Back, minion! holdst thou thus at naught 

The lesson I so lately taught? 

This roof, the Douglas, and that maid 

Thank thou for punishment delayed.' 

Eager as greyhound on his game. 

Fiercely with Roderick grappled Graeme. 

Terish my name if aught afford 

Its Chieftain safety save his sword!' 780 

Thus as they strove their desperate hand 

Griped to the dagger or the brand, 

And death had been — but Douglas rose. 

And thrust between the struggling foes 



52 The Lady of the Lake icanto ii. 

His giant strength. — ^Chieftains, forego! 

I hold the first who strikes my foe. — 

Madmen, forbear your frantic jar! 

What! is the Douglas fallen so far 

His daughter's hand is deemed the spoil 

Of such dishonorable broil?' 790 

Sullen and slowly they unclasp. 

As struck with shame, their desperate grasp, 

And each upon his rival glared. 

With foot advanced and blade half bared. 

XXXV 

Ere yet the brands aloft were flung, 

Margaret on Roderick's mantle hung, 

And Malcolm heard his Ellen's scream. 

As faltered through terrific dream. 

Then Roderick plunged in sheath his sword, 

And veiled his wrath in scornful word: 800 

'Rest safe till morning; pity 'twere 

Such cheek should feel the midnight air! 

Then mayst thou to James Stuart tell, 

Roderick will keep the lake and fell, 

Nor lackey with his freeborn clan 

The pageant pomp of earthly man. 

More would he of Clan-Alpine know. 

Thou canst our strength and passes show. — 

Malise, what ho!' — His henchman came. 

*Give our safe-conduct to the Graeme.' 810 

Young Malcolm answered, calm and bold: 

'Fear nothing for thy favorite hold; 

The spot an angel deigned to grace 

Is blessed, though robbers haunt the place. 

Thy churlish courtesy for those 

Reserve who fear to be thy foes. 

As safe to me the mountain way 

At midnight as in blaze of day, 



Canto II. j The Island 53 

Though with his boldest at his back 

Even Roderick Dhu beset the track. — 820 

Brave Douglas, — lovely Ellen, — nay, 

Naught here of parting will I say. 

Earth does not hold a lonesome glen 

So secret but we meet again. — 

Chieftain! we too shall find an hour,' 

He said, and left the sylvan bower. 

XXXVI 

Old Allan followed to the strand — 

Such was the Douglas's command — 

And anxious told how, on the morn. 

The stern Sir Roderick deep had sworn 830 

The Fiery Cross should circle o'er 

Dale, glen, and valley, down and moor. ' 

Much were the peril to the Graeme 

From those who to the signal came. 

Far up the lake 'twere safest land; 

Himself would row him to the strand. 

He gave his counsel to the wind. 

While Malcolm did, unheeding, bind. 

Round dirk and pouch and broadsword rolled. 

His ample plaid in tightened fold, 840 

And stripped his limbs to such array 

As best might suit the watery way, 

xxxvn 

Then spoke abrupt: Tarewell to thee, 

Pattern of old fidelity!' 

The Minstrel's hand he kindly pressed, — 

*0, could I point a place of rest! 

My sovereign holds in ward my land, 

My uncle leads my vassal band; 



54 The Lady of the Lake icanto h. 

To tame his foes, his friends to aid, 

Poor Malcolm has but heart and blade. 850 

Yet, if there be one faithful Graeme 

Who loves the chieftain of his name, 

Not long shall honored Douglas dwell 

Like hunted stag in mountain cell; 

Nor, ere yon pride-swollen robber dare,— - 

I may not give the rest to air! 

Tell Roderick Dhu I owed him naught, 

Not the poor service of a boat, 

To waft me to yon mountain-side.' 

Then plunged he in the flashing tide. 860 

Bold o'er the flood his head he bore. 

And stoutly steered him from the shore; 

And Allan strained his anxious eye, 

Far mid the lake his form to spy. 

Darkening across each puny wave, 

To which the moon her silver gave. 

Fast as the cormorant could skim. 

The swimmer plied each active limb; 

Then landing in the moonlight dell. 

Loud shouted of his weal to tell. 870 

The Minstrel heard the far halloo, 

And joyful from the shore withdrew. 



CANTO THIRD 

THE GATHERING 



Time rolls his ceaseless course. The race of yore, 

Who danced our infancy upon their knee, 
And told our marvelling boyhood legends store 

Of their strange ventures happed by land or sea, 
How are they blotted from the things that be! 

How few, all weak and withered of their force. 
Wait on the verge of dark eternity, 

Like stranded wrecks, the tide returning hoarse, 
To sweep them from our sight! Time rolls his ceaseless 
course. 

Yet live there still who can remember well lo 

How, when a mountain chief his bugle blew. 
Both field and forest, dingle, cliff, and dell. 

And solitary heath, the signal knew; 
And fast the faithful clan around him drew. 

What time the warning note was keenly wound, 
What time aloft their kindred banner flew, 

While clamorous war-pipes yelled the gathering sound. 
And while the Fiery Cross glanced, like a meteor, round. 

II 

The Summer dawn's reflected hue 
To purple changed Loch Katrine blue; 20 

Mildly and soft the western breeze 
Just kissed the lake, just stirred the trees, 
55 



it"** 

r-N,F' , 



',ii,i„i||"^ ?" '" 





Canto III.] The Gathering 57 

And the pleased lake, like maiden coy, 

Trembled but dimpled not for joy. 

The mountain-shadows on her breast 

Were neither broken nor at rest; 

In bright uncertainty they lie, 

Like future joys to Fancy's eye. 

The water-lily to the light 

Her chalice reared of silver bright; 30 

The doe awoke, and to the lawn, 

Begemmed with dew drops, led her fawn; 

The gray mist left the mountain-side, 

The torrent showed its glistening pride; 

Invisible in flecked sky 

The lark sent down her revelry; 

The blackbird and the speckled thrush 

Good-morrow gave from brake and bush; 

In answer cooed the cushat dove 

Her notes of peace and rest and love. 40 

m 

No thought of peace, no thought of rest 

Assuaged the storm in Roderick's breast. 

With sheathed broadsword in his hand. 

Abrupt he paced the islet strand. 

And eyed the rising sun, and laid 

His hand on his impatient blade. 

Beneath a rock, his vassals' care 

Was prompt the ritual to prepare. 

With deep and deathful meaning fraught; 

For such Antiquity had taught 50 

Was preface meet, ere yet abroad 

The Cross of Fire should take its road. 

The shrinking band stood oft aghast 

At the impatient glance he cast; — 

Such glance the mountain eagle threw, 

As, from the cliffs of Benvenue, 



58 The Lady of the Lake [Canto in. 

She spread her dark sails on the wind, 

And, high in middle heaven reclined, 

With her broad shadow on the lake. 

Silenced the warblers of the brake. 60 



IV 

A heap of withered boughs was piled, 

Of juniper and rowan wild. 

Mingled with shivers from the oak. 

Rent by the lightning's recent stroke. 

Brian the Hermit by it stood. 

Barefooted, in his frock and hood. 

His grizzled beard and matted hair 

Obscured a visage of despair; 

His naked arms and legs, seamed o'er, 

The scars of frantic penance bore. 70 

That monk, of savage form and face. 

The impending danger of his race 

Had drawn from deepest solitude, 

Far in Benharrow's bosom rude. 

Not his the mien of Christian priest. 

But Druid's, from the grave released, 

Whose hardened heart and eye might brook 

On human sacrifice to look; 

And much, 'twas said, of heathen lore 

Mixed in the charms he muttered o'er. 80 

The hallowed creed gave only worse 

And deadlier emphasis of curse. 

No peasant sought that Hermit's prayer, 

His cave the pilgrim shunned with care; 

The eager huntsman knew his bound. 

And in mid chase called off his hound; 

Or if, in lonely glen or strath, 

The desert-dweller met his path, 

He prayed, and signed the cross between, 

While terror took devotion's mien. 90 



Canto III] The Gathering 59 



Of Brian's birth strange tales were told. 

His mother watched a midnight fold, 

Built deep within a dreary glen, 

Where scattered lay the bones of men 

In some forgotten battle slain, 

And bleached by drifting wind and rain. 

It might have tamed a warrior's heart 

To view such mockery of his art! 

The knot-grass fettered there the hand 

Which once could burst an iron band; 100 

Beneath the broad and ample bone 

That bucklered heart to fear unknown, 

A feeble and a timorous guest, 

The fieldfare framed her lowly nest; 

There the slow blindworm left his slime 

On the fleet limbs that mocked at time; 

And there, too, lay the leader's skull. 

Still wreathed with chaplet, fliushed and full, 

For heath-bell with her purple bloom 

Supplied the bonnet and the plume. no 

All night, in this sad glen, the maid 

Sat shrouded in her mantle's shade. 

She said no shepherd sought her side, 

No hunter's hand her snood untied, 

Yet ne'er again to braid her hair 

The virgin snood did Alice wear; 

Gone was her maiden glee and sport, 

Her maiden girdle all too short. 

Nor sought she, from that fatal night, 

Or holy church or blessed rite, 120 

But locked her secret in her breast. 

And died in travail, unconfessed. 

VI 

Alone, among his young compeers, 
Was Brian from his infant years; 



6o The Lady of the Lake [Canto hi. 

A moody and heart-broken boy, 

Estranged from sympathy and joy, 

Bearing each taunt which careless tongue 

On his mysterious lineage flung. 

Whole nights he spent by moonlight pale, 

To wood and stream his hap to wail, 130 

Till, frantic, he as truth received 

What of his birth the crowd believed, 

And sought, in mist and meteor fire, 

To meet and know his Phantom Sire! 

In vain, to soothe his wayward fate. 

The cloister oped her pitying gate; 

In vain the learning of the age 

Unclasped the sable-lettered page; 

Even in its treasures he could find 

Food for the fever of his mind. 140 

Eager he read whatever tells 

Of magic, cabala, and spells. 

And every dark pursuit allied 

To curious and presumptuous pride; 

Till with fired brain and nerves o'erstrung. 

And heart with mystic horrors wrung, 

Desperate he sought Benharrow's den 

And hid him from the haunts of men. 

VII 

The desert gave him visions wild 

Such as might suit the spectre's child. 150 

Where with black cliffs the torrents toil, 

He watched the wheeling eddies boil. 

Till from their foam his dazzled eyes 

Beheld the River Demon rise. 

The mountain mist took form and limb 

Of noontide hag or goblin grim; 

The midnight wind came wild and dread, 

Swelled with the voices of the dead: 



Canto III.] The Gathering 6 1 

Far on the future battle-heath 

His eye beheld the ranks of death. i6o 

Thus the lone Seer, from mankind hurled, 

Shaped forth a disembodied world. 

One lingering sympathy of mind 

Still bound him to the mortal kind; 

The only parent he could claim 

Of ancient Alpine's lineage came 

Late had he heard, in prophet's dream, 

The fatal Ben-Shie's boding scream; 

Sounds, too, had come in midnight blast 

Of charging steeds, careering fast 170 

Along Benharrow's shingly side, 

Where mortal horseman ne'er might ride; 

The thunderbolt had split the pine, — 

All augured ill to Alpine's Hne. 

He girt his loins, and came to show 

The signals of impending woe, 

And now stood prompt to bless or ban. 

As bade the Chieftain of his clan. 

VIII 

'Twas all prepared; — and from the rock 

A goat, the patriarch of the flock, 180 

Before the kindling pile was laid. 

And pierced by Roderick's ready blade. 

Patient the sickening victim eyed 

The life-blood ebb in crimson tide 

Down his clogged beard and shaggy limb, 

Till darkness glazed his eyeballs dim.. 

The grisly priest, with murmuring prayer, 

A slender crosslet framed with care, 

A cubit's length in measure due; 

The shaft and limbs were rods of yew, 190 

Whose parents in Inch-Cailliach wave 

Their shadows o'er Clan-Alpine's grave, 



62 The Lady of the Lake [Canto hi. 

And, answering Lomond's breezes deep, 
Soothe many a chieftain's endless sleep. 
The Cross thus formed he held on high. 
With wasted hand and haggard eye, 
And strange and mingled feelings woke, 
While his anathema he spoke: — 

IX 

*Woe to the clansman who shall view 

This symbol of sepulchral yew, 200 

Forgetful that its branches grew 

Where weep the heavens their holiest dew 

On Alpine's dwelling low! 
Deserter of his Chieftain's trust. 
He ne'er shall mingle with their dust. 
But, from his sires and kindred thrust. 
Each clansman's execration just 

Shall doom him wrath and woe.' 
He paused; — the word the vassals took. 
With forward step and fiery look; 210 

On high their naked brands they shook, 
Their clattering targets wildly strook; 

And first in murmur low, 
Then, like the billow in his course 
That far to seaward finds his source, 
And flings to shore his mustered force. 
Burst with loud roar their answer hoarse, 

'Woe to the traitor, woe!' 
Ben-an's gray scalp the accents knew, 
- The joyous wolf from covert drew, 220 

The exulting eagle screamed afar, — 
They knew the voice of Alpine's war. 



The shout was hushed on lake and fell; 
The Monk resumed his muttered spell. 



Canto III.] 



The Gathering 63 



Dismal and low its accents came, 

The while he scathed the Cross with flame; 

And the few words that reached the air, 

Although the holiest name was there, 

Had more of blasphemy than prayer. 

But when he shook above the crowd 230 

Its kindled points, he spoke aloud: — 

'Woe to the wretch who fails to rear 

At this dread sign the ready spear! 

For, as the flames this symbol sear, 

His home, the refuge of his fear, 

A kindred fate shall know. 
Far o'er its roof the volumed flame 
Clan-Alpine's vengeance shall proclaim, 
While maids and matrons on his name 
Shall call down wretchedness and shame 240 

And infamy and woe.' 
Then rose the cry of females, shrill 
As goshawk's whistle on the hill, 
Denouncing misery and ill, 
Mingled with childhood's babbling trill 

Of curses stammered slow, 
Answering with imprecation dread, 
^Sunk be his home in embers red! 
And cursed be the meanest shed 
That e'er shall hide the houseless head 250 

We doom to want and woe!' 
A sharp and shrieking echo gave, 
Coir-Uriskin, thy goblin cave! 
And the gray pass where birches wave 

On Beala-nam-bo. 



XI 



Then deeper paused the priest anew, 
And hard his laboring breath he drew, 



64 The Lady of the Lake [Canto hi. 

While, with set teeth and clenched hand, 

And eyes that glowed like fiery brand, 

He meditated curse more dread, 260 

And deadlier, on the clansman's head 

Who, summoned to his chieftain's aid, 

The signal saw and disobeyed. 

The crosslet's points of sparkling wood 

He quenched among the bubbling blood, 

And, as again the sign he reared. 

Hollow and hoarse his voice was heard: 

^When flits this Cross from man to man, 

Vich-Alpine's summons to his clan, 

Burst be the ear that fails to heed! 270 

Palsied the foot that shuns to speed! 

May ravens tear the careless eyes. 

Wolves make the coward heart their prize! 

As sinks that blood-stream in the earth. 

So may his heart's-blood drench his hearth! 

As dies in hissing gore the spark. 

Quench thou his light, Destruction dark! 

And be the grace to him denied, 

Bought by this sign to all beside!' 

He ceased; no echo gave again 280 

The murmur of the deep Amen. 

XII 

Then Roderick with impatient look 

From Brian's hand the symbol took. 

'Speed, Malise, speed!' he said, and gave 

The crosslet to his henchman brave. 

*The muster-place be Lanrick mead — 

Instant the time — speed, Malise, speed!' 

Like heath -bird, when the hawks pursue, 

A barge across Loch Katrine flew; 

High stood the henchman on the prow; 290 

So rapidly the barge-men row, 



Canto III.] The Gathering 65 

The bubbles, where they launched the boat, 
Were all unbroken and afloat, 
Dancing in foam and ripple still. 
When it had neared the mainland hill; 
And from the silver beach's side 
Still was the prow three fathom wide 
When lightly bounded to the land 
The messenger of blood and brand. 

xni 

Speed, Malise, speed! the dun deer's hide 300 

On fleeter foot was never tied. 

Speed, Malise, speed! such cause of haste 

Thine active sinews never braced. 

Bend 'gainst the steepy hill thy breast. 

Burst down like torrent from its crest; 

With short and springing footstep pass 

The trembling bog and false morass; 

Across the brook like roebuck bound, 

And thread the brake like questing hound; 

The crag is high, the scaur is deep, 310 

Yet shrink not from the desperate leap. 

Parched are thy burning lips and brow, 

Yet by the fountain pause not now; 

Herald of battle, fate, and fear, 

Stretch onward in thy fleet career! 

The wounded hind thou track'st not now, 

Pursuest not maid through greenwood bough. 

Nor pliest thou now thy flying pace 

With rivals in the mountain race; 

But danger, death, and warrior deed 320 

Are in thy course — speed, Malise, speed! 

XIV 

Fast as the fatal symbol flies, 

In arms the huts and hamlets rise; 



66 The Lady of the Lake [Camo hi. 

From winding glen, from upland brown, 

They poured each hardy tenant down. 

Nor slacked the messenger his pace; 

He showed the sign, he named the place, 

And, pressing forward like the wind, 

Left clamor and surprise behind. 

The fisherman forsook the strand, 330 

The swarthy smith took dirk and brand; 

With changed cheer, the mower blithe 

Left in the half-cut swath his scythe; " 

The herds without a keeper strayed. 

The plough was in mid-furrow stayed, 

The falconer tossed his hawk away. 

The hunter left the stag at bay. 

Prompt at the signal of alarms. 

Each son of Alpine rushed to arms. 

So swept the tumult and affray 340 

Along the margin of Achray. 

Alas, thou lovely lake! that e'er 

Thy banks should echo sounds of fear! 

The rocks, the bosky thickets, sleep 

So stilly on thy bosom deep. 

The lark's blithe carol from the cloud 

Seems for the scene too gayly loud. 

XV 

Speed, Malise, speed! The lake is past; 

Duncraggan's huts appear at last. 

And peep, like moss-grown rocks, half seen, 350 

Half hidden in the copse so green. 

There mayst thou rest, thy labor done; 

Their lord shall speed the signal on. — 

As stoops the hawk upon his prey. 

The henchman shot him down the way. 

What woful accents load the gale? 

The funeral yell, the female wail! 



Canto III] The Gathering 67 

A gallant hunter's sport is o'er, 

A valiant warrior fights no more. 

Who, in the battle or the chase, 360 

At Roderick's side shall fill his place! — 

Within the hall, where torch's ray 

Supplies the excluded beams of day, 

Lies Duncan on his lowly bier, 

And o'er him streams his widow's tear. 

His stripling son stands mournful by. 

His youngest weeps, but knows not why; 

The village maids and matrons round 

The dismal coronach resound. 

XVI 
CORONACH 

He is gone on the mountain, 370 

He is lost to the forest. 
Like a summer-dried fountain, 

When our need was the sorest. 
The font, reappearing. 

From the rain-drops shall borrow, 
But to us comes no cheering. 

To Duncan no morrow! 

The hand of the reaper 

Takes the ears that are hoary. 
But the voice of the weeper 380 

Wails manhood in glory. 
The autumn winds rushing 

Waft the leaves that are searest, 
But our flower was in flushing. 

When blighting was nearest. 

Fleet foot on the correi. 

Sage counsel in cumber. 
Red hand in the foray. 

How sound is thy slumber! 



68 The Lady of the Lake [Canto hi. 

Like the dew on the mountain, 390 

Like the foam on the river, 
Like the bubble on the fountain, 

Thou art gone, and forever! 

xvn 

See Stumah, v^ho, the bier beside, 

His master's corpse with wonder eyed. 

Poor Stumah! whom his least halloo 

Could send like lightning o'er the dew. 

Bristles his crest, and points his ears. 

As if some stranger step he hears. 

'Tis not a mourner's muffled tread, 400 

Who comes to sorrow o'er the dead, 

But headlong haste or deadly fear 

Urge the precipitate career. 

All stand aghast. — Unheeding all. 

The henchman bursts into the hall; 

Before the dead man's bier he stood. 

Held forth the Cross besmeared with blood. — 

'The muster-place is Lanrick mead; 

Speed forth the signal! clansmen, speed!' 

xvrn 

Angus, the heir of Duncan's line, 410 

Sprung forth and seized the fatal sign. 

In haste the stripling to his side 

His father's dirk and broadsword tied; 

But when he saw his mother's eye 

Watch him in speechless agony. 

Back to her opened arms he flew. 

Pressed on her lips a fond adieu. 

'Alas!' she sobbed, — 'and yet be gone, 

And speed thee forth, like Duncan's son!' 



Canto III.] The Gathering 69 

One look he cast upon the bier, 420 

Dashed from his eye the gathering tear, 

Breathed deep to clear his laboring breast, 

And tossed aloft his bonnet crest, 

Then, like the high-bred colt when, freed, 

First he essays his fire and speed, 

He vanished, and o'er moor and moss 

Sped forward with the Fiery Cross. 

Suspended was the widow's tear 

While yet his footsteps she could hear; 

And when she marked the henchman's eye 430 

Wet with unwonted sympathy, 

^Kinsman,' she said, 'his race is run 

That should have sped thine errand on; 

The oak has fallen, — the sapling bough 

Is all Duncraggan's shelter now. 

Yet trust I well, his duty done. 

The orphan's God will guard my son. — 

And you, in many a danger true. 

At Duncan's hest your blades that drew, 

To arms, and guard that orphan's head! 440 

Let babes and women wail the dead.' 

Then weapon-clang and martial call 

Resounded through the funeral hall. 

While from the walls the attendant band 

Snatched sw^ord and targe with hurried hand; 

And short and flitting energy 

Glanced from the mourner's sunken eye. 

As if the sounds to w^arrior dear 

Might rouse her Duncan from his bier. 

But faded soon that borrowed force; 450 

Grief claimed his right, and tears their course. 

XIX 

Benledi saw the Cross of Fire; 

It glanced like lightning up Strath-Ire. 



JO The Lady of the Lake [Canto hi. 

O'er dale and hill the summons flew, 

Nor rest nor pause young Angus knew; 

The tear that gathered in his eye 

He left the mountain-breeze to dry; 

Until, where Teith's young waters roll 

Betwixt him and a wooded knoll 

That graced the sable strath with green, 460 

The chapel of Saint Bride was seen. 

Swoln was the stream, remote the bridge, 

But Angus paused not on the edge; 

Though the dark waves danced dizzily. 

Though reeled his sympathetic eye, 

He dashed amid the torrent's roar. 

His right hand high the crosslet bore. 

His left the pole-axe grasped, to guide 

And stay his footing in the tide. 

He stumbled twice, — the foam splashed high, 470 

With hoarser swell the stream raced by; 

And had he fallen, — forever there. 

Farewell Duncraggan's orphan heir! 

But still, as if in parting life. 

Firmer he grasped the Cross of strife, 

Until the opposing bank he gained. 

And up the chapel pathway strained. 

XX 

A blithesome rout that morning-tide 

Had sought the chapel of Saint Bride. 

Her troth Tombea's Mary gave 480 

To Norman, heir of Armandave, 

And, issuing from the Gothic arch. 

The bridal now resumed their march. 

In rude but glad procession came 

Bonneted sire and coif -clad dame; 

And plaided youth, with jest and jeer. 

Which snooded maiden would not hear; 



Canto III.] The Gathering 71 

And children, that, unwitting why. 

Lent the gay shout their shrilly cry; 

And minstrels, that in measures vied 490 

Before the young and bonny bride, 

Whose downcast eye and cheek disclose 

The tear and blush of morning rose. 

With virgin step and bashful hand 

She held the kerchief's snowy band. 

The gallant bridegroom by her side 

Beheld his prize with victor's pride, 

And the glad mother in her ear 

Was closely whispering word of cheer. 



XXI 



Who meets them at the churchyard gate? 500 

The messenger of fear and fate! 

Haste in his hurried accent lies, 

And grief is swimming in his eyes. 

All dripping from the recent flood. 

Panting and travel-soiled he stood. 

The fatal sign of fire and sword 

Held forth, and spoke the appointed word: 

*The muster-place is Lanrick mead; 

Speed forth the signal! Norman, speed!' 

And must he change so soon the hand 510 

Just linked to his by holy band, 

For the fell Cross of blood and brand? 

And must the day so blithe that rose, 

And promised rapture in the close, 

Before its setting hour, divide 

The bridegroom from the plighted bride? 

O fatal doom! — it must! it must! 

Clan-Alpine's cause, her Chieftain's trust, 

Her summons dread brook no delay; 

Stretch to the race, — away! away! 520 



72 The Lady of the Lake [Canto m. 

XXII 

Yet slow he laid his plaid aside, 

And lingering eyed his lovely bride, 

Until he saw the starting tear 

Speak woe he might not stop to cheer; 

Then, trusting not a second look, 

In haste he sped him up the brook, 

Nor backward glanced till on the heath 

Where Lubnaig's lake supplies the Teith. — 

What in the racer's bosom stirred? 

The sickening pang of hope deferred, 530 

And memory with a torturing train 

Of all his morning visions vain. 

Mingled with love's impatience, came 

The manly thirst for martial fame; 

The stormy joy of mountaineers 

Ere yet they rush upon the spears; 

And zeal for Clan and Chieftain burning, 

And hope, from well-fought field returning, 

With war's red honors on his crest, 

To clasp his Mary to his breast. 540 

Stung by such thoughts, o'er bank and brae. 

Like fire from flint he glanced away, 

While high resolve and feeling strong 

Burst into voluntary song. 

xxin 

SONG 

The heath this night must be my bed, 
The bracken curtain for my head, 
My lullaby the warder's tread, 

Far, far, from love and thee, Mary; 
To-morrow eve, more stilly laid, 
My couch may be my bloody plaid, 550 

My vesper song thy wail, sweet maid! 

It will not waken me, Mary! 



caxnto III] The Gathering 73 

I may not, dare not, fancy now 
The grief that clouds thy lovely brow; 
I dare not think upon thy vow, 

And all it promised me, Mary. 
No fond regret must Norman know; 
When bursts Clan-Alpine on the foe, 
His heart must be like bended bow. 

His foot like arrow free, Mary. 560 

A time will come with feeling fraught; 
For, if I fall in battle fought. 
Thy hapless lover's dying thought 

Shall be a thought on thee, Mary. 
And if returned from conquered foes, 
How blithely will the evening close. 
How sweet the linnet sing repose. 

To my young bride and me, Mary! 

XXIV 

Not faster o'er thy heathery braes, 

Balquidder, speeds the midnight blaze, 570 

Rushing in conflagration strong 

Thy deep ravines and dells along, 

Wrapping thy cliffs in purple glow, 

And reddening the dark lakes below; 

Nor faster speeds it, nor so far. 

As o'er thy heaths thy voice of war. 

The signal roused to martial coil 

The sullen margin of Loch Voil, 

Waked still Loch Doine, and to the source 

Alarmed, Balvaig, thy swampy course; 580 

Thence southward turned its rapid road 

Adown Strath- Gartney's valley broad, 

Till rose in arms each man might claim 

A portion in Clan-Alpine's name. 



74 The Lady of the Lake [Canto in. 

From the gray sire, whose trembling hand 

Could hardly buckle on his brand, 

To the raw boy, whose shaft and bow 

Were yet scarce terror to the crow. 

Each valley, each sequestered glen, 

Mustered its little horde of men, 590 

That met as torrents from the height 

In Highland dales their streams unite, 

Still gathering, as they pour along, 

A voice more loud, a tide more strong, 

Till at the rendezvous they stood 

By hundreds prompt for blows and blood, 

Each trained to arms since life began, 

Owning no tie but to his clan, 

No oath but by his chieftain's hand, 

No law but Roderick Dhu's command. 600 

XXV 

That summer morn had Roderick Dhu 

Surveyed the skirts of Benvenue, 

And sent his scouts o'er hill and heath 

To view the frontiers of Menteith. 

All backward came with news of truce. 

Still lay each martial Graeme and Bruce, 

In Rednock courts no horsemen wait, 

No banner waved on Cardross gate. 

On Duchray's towers no beacon shone. 

Nor scared the herons from Loch Con; 610 

All seemed at peace. — Now wot ye why 

The Chieftain with such anxious eye. 

Ere to the muster he repair, 

This western frontier scanned with care? 

In Benvenue's most darksome cleft, 

A fair though cruel pledge was left;" 

For Douglas, to his promise true, 

That morning from the isle withdrew. 



Canto III] The Gathering 75 

And in a deep sequestered dell 

Had sought a low and lonely cell. 620 

By many a bard in Celtic tongue 

Has Coir-nan-Uriskin been sung; 

A softer name the Saxons gave, 

And called the grot the Goblin Cave. 

XXVI 

It was a wild and strange retreat, 

As e'er was trod by outlaw's feet. 

The dell, upon the mountain's crest. 

Yawned like a gash on warrior's breast; 

Its trench had stayed full many a rock. 

Hurled by primeval earthquake shock 630 

From Benvenue's gray summit wild, 

And here, in random ruin piled, 

They frowned incumbent o'er the spot. 

And formed the rugged sylvan grot. 

The oak and birch with mingled shade 

At noontide there a twilight made. 

Unless when short and sudden shone 

Some straggling beam on cliff or stone, 

With such a glimpse as prophet's eye 

Gains on thy depth. Futurity. 640 

No murmur waked the solemn still, 

Save tinkling of a fountain rill; 

But when the wind chafed with the lake, 

A sullen sound would upward break, 

With dashing hollow voice that spoke 

The incessant war of wave and rock. 

Suspended cliffs with hideous sway 

Seemed nodding o'er the cavern gray. 

From such a den the wolf had sprung. 

In such the wild-cat leaves her young; 650 

Yet Douglas and his daughter fair 

Sought for a space their safety there. 



76 The Lady of the Lake [Canto hi. 

Gray Superstition's whisper dread 
Debarred the spot to vulgar tread; 
For there, she said, did fays resort. 
And satyrs hold their sylvan court. 
By moonlight tread their mystic maze, 
And blast the rash beholder's gaze. 

xxvn 

Now eve, with western shadows long. 

Floated on Katrine bright and strong, 660 

When Roderick with a chosen few 

Repassed the heights of Benvenue. 

Above the Goblin Cave they go, 

Through the wild pass of Beal-nam-bo; 

The prompt retainers speed before. 

To launch the shallop from the shore, 

For 'cross Loch Katrine lies his way 

To view the passes of Achray, 

And place his clansmen in array. 

Yet lags the Chief in musing mind, 670 

Unwonted sight, his men behind. 

A single page, to bear his sword. 

Alone attended on his lord; 

The rest their way through thickets break, 

And soon await him by the lake. 

It was a fair and gallant sight, 

To view them from the neighboring height. 

By the low-levelled sunbeam's light! 

For strength and stature, from the clan 

Each warrior was a chosen man, 680 

As even afar might well be seen, 

By their proud step and martial mien. 

Their feathers dance, their tartans float, 

Their targets gleam, as by the boat 

A wild and warlike group they stand. 

That well became such mountain-strand. 



Canto III.] The Gathering 77 

XXVIII 

Their Chief with step reluctant still 

Was lingering on the craggy hill, 

Hard by where turned apart the road 

To Douglas's obscure abode. 690 

It was but with that dawning morn 

That Roderick Dhu had proudly sworn 

To drown his love in war's wild roar, 

Nor think of Ellen Douglas more; 

But he who stems a stream with sand, 

And fetters flame with flaxen band. 

Has yet a harder task to prove, — 

By firm resolve to conquer love! 

Eve finds the Chief, like restless ghost, 

Still hovering near his treasure lost; 700 

For though his haughty heart deny 

A parting meeting to his eye, 

Still fondly strains his anxious ear 

The accents of her voice to hear. 

And inly did he curse the breeze 

That waked to sound the rustling trees. 

But hark! what mingles in the strain? 

It is the harp of Allan-bane, 

That wakes its measure slow and high. 

Attuned to sacred minstrelsy. 710 

What melting voice attends the strings? 

'Tis Ellen, or an angel, sings. 

XXIX 

HYMN TO THE VIRGIN 

Ave Maria! maiden mild! 

Listen to a maiden's prayer! 
Thou canst hear though from the wild, 

Thou canst save amid despair. 



78 The Lady of the Lake [Canto hi. 

Safe may we sleep beneath thy care. 
Though banished, outcast, and reviled — 

Maiden! hear a maiden's prayer; 

Mother, hear a suppliant child! 720 

Ave Maria/ 

Ave Maria/ undefiled! 

The flinty couch we now must share 
Shall seem with down of eider piled, 

If thy protection hover there. 
The murky cavern's heavy air 

Shall breathe of balm if thou hast smiled; 
Then, Maiden! hear a maiden's prayer, 

Mother, list a suppliant child! 

Ave Maria/ 

Ave Maria/ stainless styled! 

Foul demons of the earth and air, 730 

From this their wonted haunt exiled. 

Shall flee before thy presence fair. 
We bow us to our lot of care. 

Beneath thy guidance reconciled. 
Hear for a maid a maiden's prayer. 

And for a father hear a child! 

Ave Maria/ 



XXX 



Died on the harp the closing hymn. 

Unmoved in attitude and limb, 

As listening still, Clan-Alpine's lord 

Stood leaning on his heavy sword, 740 

Until the page with humble sign 

Twice pointed to the sun's decline. 

Then while his plaid he round him cast, 

Tt is the last time — 'tis the last,' 



Canto III] The Gathering 79 

He muttered thrice, — *the last time e'er 

That angel- voice shall Roderick hear!' 

It was a goading thought, — his stride 

Hied hastier down the mountain-side; 

Sullen he flung him in the boat, 

An instant 'cross the lake it shot. 750 

They landed in that silvery bay, 

And eastward held their hasty way, 

Till, with the latest beams of light, 

The band arrived on Lanrick height, 

Where mustered in the vale below 

Clan-Alpine's men in martial show. 

XXXI 

A various scene the clansmen made: 

Some sat, some stood, some slowly strayed; 

But most, with mantles folded round. 

Were couched to rest upon the ground, 760 

Scarce to be known by curious eye 

From the deep heather where they lie, 

So well was matched the tartan screen 

With heath-bell dark and brackens green; 

Unless where, here and there, a blade 

Or lance's point a glimmer made^ 

Like glow-worm twinkling through the shade. 

But when, advancing through the gloom, 

They saw the Chieftain's eagle plume, 

Their shout of welcome, shrill and wide, 770 

Shook the steep mountain's steady side. 

Thrice it arose, and lake and fell 

Three times returned the martial yell; 

It died upon Bochastle's plain. 

And Silence claimed her evening reign. 



'x^H^ii'^C;;^ 




Fitz- James and Roderick Dhu 



CANTO FOURTH 

THE PROPHECY 



^ThEt rose is fairest when 'tis budding new, 

And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears; 
The rose is sweetest washed with morning dew, 

And love is loveHest when embalmed in tears. 
O wilding rose, whom fancy thus endears, 

I bid your blossoms in my bonnet wave. 
Emblem of hope and love through future years!' 

Thus spoke young Norman, heir of Armandave, 
What time the sun arose on Vennachar's broad wave. 



n 



Such fond conceit, half said, half sung, lo 

Love prompted to the bridegroom's tongue. 
All while he stripped the wild-rose spray, 
His axe and bow beside him lay. 
For on a pass 'twixt lake and wood 
A wakeful sentinel he stood. 
Hark! — on the rock a footstep rung. 
And instant to his arms he sprung. 
'Stand, or thou diest! — What, Malise? — soon 
Art thou returned from Braes of Doune. 
By thy keen step and glance I know 20 

Thou bring'st us tidings of the foe.' — 
For while the Fiery Cross hied on; 
On distant scout had Malise gone. — 
81 



82 The Lady of the Lake [Canto iv. 

Where sleeps the Chief?' the henchman said. 

* Apart, in yonder misty glade; 

To his lone couch I'll be your guide.' — 

Then called a slumberer by his side, 

And stirred him with his slackened bow, — 

*Up, up, Glentarkin! rouse thee, ho! 

We seek the Chieftain; on the track 30 

Keep eagle watch till I come back.' 

Ill 

Together up the pass they sped. 
'What of the foeman?' Norman said. — 

* Varying reports from near and far; 
This certain, — that a band of war 
Has for two days been ready boune. 

At prompt command to march from Doune; 

King James the while, with princely powers, 

Holds revelry in Stirling towers. 

Soon will this dark and gathering cloud 40 

Speak on our glens in thunder loud. 

Inured to bide such bitter bout, 

The warrior's plaid may bear it out; 

But, Norman, how wilt thou provide 

A shelter for thy bonny bride?' — 

'What! know ye not that Roderick's care 

To the lone isle hath caused repair 

Each maid and matron of the clan. 

And every child and aged man 

Unfit for arms; and given his charge 50 

Nor skiff nor shallop, boat nor barge, 

Upon these lakes shall float at large. 

But all beside the islet moor. 

That such dear pledge may rest secure?' — 

IV 

"Tis well advised, — the Chieftain's plan 
Bespeaks the father of his clan. 



Canto iv.j The Prophccy 83 

But wherefore sleeps Sir Roderick Dhu 

Apart from all his followers true?' 

^It is because last evening-tide 

Brian an augury hath tried, 60 

Of that dread kind which must not be 

Unless in dread extremity, 

The Taghairm called; by which, afar, 

Our sires foresaw the events of war. 

Duncraggan's milk-white bull they slew.' — 

AIALISE 

*Ah! well the gallant brute I knew! 

The choicest of the prey we had 

When swept our merrymen Gallangad. 

His hide was snow, his horns were dark, 

His red eye glowed like fiery spark; 70 

So fierce, so tameless, and so fleet. 

Sore did he cumber our retreat. 

And kept our stoutest kerns in awe, 

Even at the pass of Beal 'maha. 

But steep and flinty was the road. 

And sharp the hurrying pikeman's goad, 

And when we came to Dennan's Row 

A child might scathless stroke his brow.' 



NORMAN 

'That bull was slain; his reeking hide 

They stretched the cataract beside, 80 

Whose waters their wild tumult toss 

Adown the black and craggy boss 

Of that huge cliff whose ample verge 

Tradition calls the Hero's Targe. 

Couched on a shelf beneath its brink. 

Close where the thundering torrents sink, 



84 The Lady of the Lake [Canto iv. 

Rocking beneath their headlong sway, 

And drizzled by the ceaseless spray, 

Midst groan of rock and roar of stream. 

The wizard waits prophetic dream. 90 

Nor distant rests the Chief; — but hush! 

See, gliding slow through mist and bush, 

The hermit gains yon rock, and stands 

To gaze upon our slumbering bands. 

Seems he not, Malise, like a ghost. 

That hovers o'er a slaughtered host? 

Or raven on the blasted oak. 

That, watching while the deer is broke, 

His morsel claims with sullen croak?' 

MALISE 

Teace! peace! to other than to me 100 

Thy words were evil augury; 

But still I hold Sir Roderick's blade 

Clan-Alpine's omen and her aid. 

Not aught that, gleaned from heaven or hell, 

Yon fiend-begotten Monk can tell. 

The Chieftain joins him, see — and now 

Together they descend the brow.' 

VI 

And, as they came, with Alpine's Lord 

The Hermit Monk held solemn word: — 

^Roderick! it is a fearful strife, no 

For man endowed with mortal life, 

Whose shroud of sentient clay can still 

Feel feverish pang and fainting chill. 

Whose eye can stare in stony trance. 

Whose hair can rouse like warrior's lance, — 

'Tis hard for such to view unfurled 

The curtain of the future world. 

Yet, witness evejy quaking limb, 

My sunken pulse, mine eyeballs dim, 



Canto iv.j The Prophccy 85 

My soul with harrowing anguish torn, 120 

This for my Chieftain have I borne ! 

The shapes that sought my fearful couch 

A human tongue may ne'er avouch; 

No mortal man — save he, who, bred 

Between the living and the dead, 

Is gifted beyond nature's law — 

Had e'er survived to say he saw. 

At length the fateful answer -came 

In characters of living flame! 

Not spoke in word, nor blazed in scroll, 130 

But borne and branded on my soul: — 

Which spills the foremost foeman's life, 

That party conquers in the strife.' 

VII . 

'Thanks, Brian, for thy zeal and care! 

Good is thine augury, and fair. 

Clan-Alpine ne'er in battle stood 

But first our broadswords tasted blood. 

A surer victim still I know, 

Self -offered to the auspicious blow: 

A spy has sought my land this morn, — 140 

No eve shall witness his return! 

My followers guard each pass's mouth, 

To east, to westward, and to south; 

Red Murdoch, bribed to be his guide, 

Has charge to lead his steps aside. 

Till in deep path or dingle brown 

He light on those shall bring him down. — 

But see, who comes his news to show! 

Malise! what tidings of the foe?' 

VIII 

*At Doune, o'er many a spear and glaive 150 

Two Barons proud their banners wave. 



86 The Lady of the Lake {Canto iv. 

I saw the Moray's silver star, 

And marked the sable pale of Mar.' 

*By Alpine's soul, high tidings those! 

I love to hear of worthy foes. 

When move they on?' ^To-morrow's noon 

Will see them here for battle boune.' 

'Then shall it see a meeting stern! 

But, for the place, — say, couldst thou learn 

Nought of the friendly clans of Earn? i6o 

Strengthened by them, we well might bide 

The battle on Benledi's side. 

Thou couldst not? — Well! Clan-Alpine's men 

Shall man the Trosachs' shaggy glen; 

Within Loch Katrine's gorge we'll fight, 

All in our maids' and matrons' sight. 

Each for his hearth and household fire, 

Father for child, and son for sire. 

Lover for maid beloved! — But why — 

Is it the breeze affects mine eye? 170 

Or dost thou come, ill-omened tear! 

A messenger of doubt or fear? 

No! sooner may the Saxon lance 

Unfix Benledi from his stance 

Than doubt or terror can pierce through 

The unyielding heart of Roderick Dhu! 

'Tis stubborn as his trusty targe. 

Each to his post! — all know their charge.' 

The pibroch sounds, the bands advance, 

The broadswords gleam, the banners dance, 180 

Obedient to the Chieftain's glance. — 

I turn me from the martial roar, 

And seek Coir-Uriskin once more. 

IX 

Where is the Douglas? — He is gone; 
And Ellen sits on the gray stone 



Canto iv.j The Prophecy ^"J 

Fast by the cave, and makes her moan, 

While vainly Allan's words of cheer 

Are poured on her unheeding ear. 

*He will return — dear lady, trust! — 

With joy return; — he will — he must. 190 

Well was it time to seek afar 

Some refuge from impending war. 

When e'en Clan-Alpine's rugged swarm 

Are cowed by the approaching storm. 

I saw their boats with many a light. 

Floating the livelong yesternight. 

Shifting like flashes darted forth 

By the red streamers of the north; 

I marked at morn how close they ride, 

Thick moored by the lone islet's side, 200 

Like wild ducks couching in the fen 

When stoops the hawk upon the glen. 

Since this rude race dare not abide 

The peril on the mainland side. 

Shall not thy noble father's care 

Some safe retreat for thee prepare?' 



ELLEN 

*No, Allan, no! Pretext so kind 

My wakeful terrors could not blind. 

When in such tender tone, yet grave, 

Douglas a parting blessing gave, 210 

The tear that glistened in his eye 

Drowned not his purpose fixed and high. 

My soul, though feminine and weak. 

Can image his; e'en as the lake, 

Itself disturbed by slightest stroke, 

Reflects the invulnerable rock. 

He hears report of battle rife. 

He deems himself the cause of strife. 



88 The Lady of the Lake icanio iv. 

I saw him redden when the theme 

Turned, Allan, on thine idle dream 220 

Of Malcolm Graeme in fetters bound, 

Which I, thou saidst, about him wound. 

Think'st thou he trowed thine omen aught? 

O no! 'twas apprehensive thought 

For the kind youth, — for Roderick too — 

Let me be just — that friend so true; 

In danger both, and in our cause! 

Minstrel, the Douglas dare not pause. 

Why else that solemn warning given, 

^If not on earth, we meet in heaven!' - 230 

Why else, to Cambus-kenneth's fane, 

If eve return him not again, 

Am I to hie and make me known ? 

Alas! he goes to Scotland's throne. 

Buys his friends' safety with his own; 

He goes to do — what I had done. 

Had Douglas' daughter been his son!' 



XI 



*Nay, lovely Ellen! — dearest, nay! 

If aught should his return delay, 

He only named yon holy fane 240 

As fitting place to meet again. 

Be sure he's safe; and for the Graeme, — 

Heaven's blessing on his gallant name! — 

My visioned sight may yet prove true, 

Nor bode of ill to him or you. 

When did my gifted dream beguile? 

Think of the stranger at the isle, 

And think upon the harpings slow 

That presaged this approaching woe! 

Sooth was my prophecy of fear; 250 

Believe it when it augurs cheer. 



Canto IV.] The Prophecy 89 

Would we had left this dismal spot! 
Ill luck still haunts a fairy grot. 
Of such a wondrous tale I know. — 
Dear lady, change that look of woe; 
My harp was wont thy grief to cheer.' 

ELLEN 

*Well, be it as thou wilt; I hear, 

But cannot stop the bursting tear.' 

The Minstrel tried his simple art, 

But distant far was Ellen's heart. 260 

XII 

BALLAD 

ALICE BRAND 

Merry it is in the good greenwood. 
When the mavis and merle are singing, 

When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are in cry. 
And the hunter's horn is ringing. 

*0 AHce Brand, my native land 

Is lost for love of you; 
And we must hold by wood and wold, 

As outlaws wont to do. 

*0 Alice, 'twas all for thy locks so bright. 

And 'twas all for thine eyes so blue, 270 

That on the night of our luckless flight 

Thy brother bold I slew. 

'Now must I teach to hew the beech 

The hand that held the glaive. 
For leaves to spread our lowly bed. 

And stakes to fence our cave. 



90 The Lady of the Lake [Canto iv. 

*And for vest of pall, thy fingers small, 

That wont on harp to stray, 
A cloak must shear from the slaughtered deer, 

To keep the cold away/ 280 

*0 Richard! if my brother died, 

'Twas but a fatal chance; 
For darkling was the battle tried, 

And fortune sped the lance. 

*If pall and vair no more I wear. 

Nor thou the crimson sheen, 
As warm, we'll say, is the russet gray, 

As gay the forest-green. 

*And, Richard, if our lot be hard. 

And lost thy native land, 290 

Still Alice has her own Richard, 

And he his Alice Brand.' 

xm 

BALLAD CONTINUED 

'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood; 

So blithe Lady Alice is singing; 
On the beech's pride, and oak's brown side. 

Lord Richard's axe is ringing. 

Up spoke the moody Elfin King, 

Who woned within the hill, — 
Like wind in the porch of a ruined church. 

His voice was ghostly shrill, 300 

*Why sounds yon stroke on beech and oak, 

Our moonlight circle's screen? 
Or who comes here to chase the deer. 



Canto IV.] The Prophecy 91 

Beloved of our Elfin Queen? 
Or who may dare on wold to wear 
The fairies' fatal green? 

^Up, Urgan, up! to yon mortal hie 

For thou wert christened man; 
For cross or sign thou wilt not fly, 

For muttered word or ban. 310 

'Lay on him the curse of the withered heart, 

The curse of the sleepless eye; 
Till he wish and pray that his life would part, 

Nor yet find leave to die.' 

XIV 
BALLAD CONTINUED 

'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood. 
Though the birds have stilled their singing; 

The evening blaze doth Alice raise. 
And Richard is fagots bringing. 

Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf. 

Before Lord Richard stands, 320 

And, as he crossed and blessed himself, 
T fear not sign,' quoth the grisly elf, 

*That is made with bloody hands.' 

But out then spoke she, Alice Brand, 

That woman void of fear, — 
*And if there's blood upon his hand, 

'Tis but the blood of deer.' 

*Now loud thou liest, thou bold of mood! 

It cleaves unto his hand. 
The stain of thine own kindly blood, 330 

The blood of Ethert Brand.' 



92 The Lady of the Lake canto iv. 

Then forward stepped she, Alice Brand, 

And made the holy sign, — 
'And if there's blood on Richard's hand, 

A spotless hand is mine. 

'And I conjure thee, demon elf, 

By Him whom demons fear, 
To show us whence thou art thyself, 

And what thine errand here?' 

XV 

BALLAD CONTINUED 

"Tis merry, 'tis merry, in Fairy-land, 340 

When fairy birds are singing, 
When the court doth ride by their monarch's side. 

With bit and bridle ringing; 

'And gayly shines the Fairy-land — 

But all is glistening show. 
Like the idle gleam that December's beam 

Can dart on ice and snow. 

'And fading, like that varied gleam. 

Is our inconstant shape. 
Who now like knight and lady seem, 350 

And now like dwarf and ape. 

'It was between the night and day. 

When the Fairy King has power. 
That I sunk down in a sinful fray, 
And 'twixt life and death was snatched away 

To the joyless Elfin bower. 

'But wist I of a woman bold, 

Who thrice my brow durst sign, 
I might regain my mortal mould, 

As fair a form as thine.' 360 



Canto iv.j The Prophecy 93 

She crossed him once — she crossed him twice — 

That lady was so brave; 
The fouler grew his goblin hue, 

The darker grew the cave. 

She crossed him thrice, that lady bold; 

He rose beneath her hand 
The fairest knight on Scottish mould, 

Her brother, Ethert Brand! 

Merry it is in good greenwood, 

When the mavis and merle are singing, 370 

But merrier were they in Dunfermline gray, 

When all the bells were ringing. 



XVI 



Just as the minstrel sounds were stayed, 

A stranger climbed the steepy glade; 

His martial step, his stately mien. 

His hunting-suit of Lincoln green. 

His eagle glance, remembrance claims — 

'Tis Snowdoun's Knight, 'tis James Fitz- James. 

Ellen beheld as in a dream, 

Then, starting, scarce suppressed a scream. 380 

*0 stranger! in such hour of fear 

What evil hap has brought thee here?' 

*An evil hap how can it be 

That bids me look again on thee? 

By promise bound, my former guide 

Met me betimes this morning-tide. 

And marshalled over bank and bourne 

The happy path of my return.' 

*The happy path! — what! said he naught 

Of war, of battle to be fought, 390 

Of guarded pass?' 'No, by my faith! 

Nor saw I aught could augur scathe.' 



94 The Lady of the Lake [Canto iv. 

*0 haste thee, Allan, to the kern; 

Yonder his tartans I discern. 

Learn thou his purpose, and conjure 

That he will guide the stranger sure! — 

What prompted thee, unhappy man? 

The meanest serf in Roderick's clan 

Had not been bribed, by love or fear, 

Unknown to him to guide thee here.' 400 

XVII 

'Sweet Ellen, dear my life must be. 

Since it is worthy care from thee; 

Yet life I hold but idle breath 

When love or honor's weighed with death. 

Then let me profit by my chance, 

And speak my purpose bold at once. 

I come to bear thee from a wild 

Where ne'er before such blossom smiled, 

By this soft hand to lead thee far 

From frantic scenes of feud and war. 410 

Near Bochastle my horses wait; 

They bear us soon to Stirling gate. 

I'll place thee in a lovely bower, 

I'll guard thee like a tender flower — ' 

^O hush. Sir Knight! 'twere female art 

To say I do not read thy heart; 

Too much, before, my selfish ear 

Was idly soothed my praise to hear. 

That fatal bait hath lured thee back. 

In deathful hour, o'er dangerous track; 420 

And how, O how, can I atone 

The wreck my vanity brought on! — 

One way remains — I'll tell him all — 

Yes! struggling bosom, forth it shall! 

Thou, whose light folly bears the blame, 

Buy thine own pardon with thy shame! 



Canto IV.] The Prophecy 95 

But first — my father is a man 

Outlawed and exiled, under ban. 

The price of blood is on his head; 

With me 'twere infamy to wed. 430 

Still wouldst thou speak? — then hear the truth! 

Fitz- James, there is a noble youth — 

If yet he is! — exposed for me 

And mine to dread extremity — 

Thou hast the secret of my heart; 

Forgive, be generous, and depart!' 

xvm 

Fitz- James knew every wily train 

A lady's fickle heart to gain. 

But here he knew and felt them vain. 

There shot no glance from Ellen's eye 440 

To give her steadfast speech the lie; 

In maiden confidence sHe stood. 

Though mantled in her cheek the blood. 

And told her love with such a sigh 

Of deep and hopeless agony 

As death had sealed her Malcolm's doom 

And she sat sorrowing on his tomb. 

Hope vanished from Fitz- James's eye, 

But not with hope fled sympathy. 

He proffered to attend her side 450 

As brother would a sister guide. 

'O little know'st thou Roderick's heart! 

Safer for both we go apart. 

O haste thee, and from Allan learn 

If thou mayst trust yon wily kern.' 

With hand upon his forehead laid. 

The conflict of his mind to shade, 

A parting step or two he made; 

Then, as some thought had crossed his brain. 

He paused, and turned, and came again. 460 



g6 The Lady of the Lake [Canto iv 

XIX 

^Hear, lady, yet a parting word! — • 
It chanced in fight that my poor sword 
Preserved the life of Scotland's lord. 
"This ring the grateful Monarch gave, 
And bade, when I had boon to crave, 
To bring it back, and boldly claim 
The recompense that I would name. 
Ellen, I am no courtly lord. 
But one who lives by lance and sword, 
Whose castle is his helm and shield, 470 

His lordship the embattled field. 
What from a prince can I demand. 
Who neither reck of state nor land? 
Ellen, thy hand — the ring is thine; 
Each guard and usher knows the sign. 
Seek thou the King without delay; 
This signet shall secure thy way; 
And claim thy suit, whate'er it be, 
As ransom of his pledge to me.' 

He placed the golden circlet on, 480 

Paused — kissed her hand — and then was gone. 
The aged Minstrel stood aghast, 
So hastily Fitz- James shot past. 
He joined his guide, and wending down 
The ridges of the mountain brown. 
Across the stream they took their way 
That joins Loch Katrine to Achray. 

XX 

All in the Trosachs' glen was still; 

Noontide was sleeping on the hill. 

Sudden his guide whooped loud and high. — 490 

'Murdoch! was that a signal cry?' — 

He stammered forth, 'I shout to scare 

Yon raven from his dainty fare.' 



Canto iv.} The Prophccy 97 

He looked — he knew the raven^s prey, 

His own brave steed. ^Ah! gallant gray! 

For thee — for me, perchance — 'twere well 

We ne'er had seen the Trosachs' dell. — 

Murdoch, move first — but silently; 

Whistle or whoop, and thou shalt die!' 

Jealous and sullen on they fared, 500 

Each silent, each upon his guard. 



XXI 



Now wound the path its dizzy ledge 

Around a precipice's edge, 

When lo! a wasted female form, 

Blighted by wrath of sun and storm, 

In tattered weeds and wild array, 

Stood on a cliff beside the way. 

And glancing round her restless eye 

Upon the wood, the rock, the sky. 

Seemed naught to mark, yet all to spy. 510 

Her brow was wreathed with gaudy broom; 

With gesture wild she waved a plume 

Of feathers, which the eagles fling 

To crag and cliff from dusky wing; 

Such spoils her desperate step had sought. 

Where scarce was footing for the goat. 

The tartan plaid she first descried. 

And shrieked till all the rocks replied; 

As loud she laughed when near they drew. 

For then the Lowland garb she knew; 520 

And then her hands she wildly wrung, 

And then she wept, and then she sung — 

She sung! — the voice, in better time. 

Perchance to harp or lute might chime; * 

And now, though strained and roughened, still 

Rung wildly sweet to dale and hill. 



98 The Lady of the Lake [Canto iv. 

XXII 

SONG 

They bid me sleep, they bid me pray, 
They say my brain is warped and wrung. — 

I cannot sleep on Highland brae, 

I cannot pray in Highland tongue. 530 

But were I now where Allan glides, 

Or heard my native Devan's tides. 

So sweetly would I rest, and pray 

That Heaven would close my wintry day! 

'Twas thus my hair they bade me braid, 

They made me to the church repair; 
It was my bridal morn, they said. 

And my true love would meet me there. 
But woe betide the cruel guile 

That drowned in blood the morning smile! $40 

And woe betide the fairy dream! 
I only waked to sob and scream. 

xxin 

*Who is this maid? what means her lay? 

She hovers o'er the hollow way, 

And flutters wide her mantle gray. 

As the lone heron spreads his wing. 

By twilight, o'er a haunted spring.' 

"Tis Blanche of Devan,' Murdoch said, 

*A crazed and captive Lowland maid, 

Ta'en on the morn she was a bride, 550 

When Roderick forayed Devan-side. 

The gay bridegroom resistance made. 

And felt our Chief's unconquered blade. 

I marvel she is now at large. 

But oft she 'scapes from Maudlin's charge. — 



Canto IV.] The Prophccy Qg 

Hence, brain-sick fool!' — He raised his bow. — 

*Now, if thou strik'st her but one blow, 

I'll pitch thee from the cliff as far 

As ever peasant pitched a bar!' 

'Thanks, champion, thanks!' the Maniac cried, 560 

And pressed her to Fitz- James's side. 

'See the gray pennons I prepare, 

To seek my true love through the air! 

I will not lend that savage groom, 

To break his fall, one downy plume! 

No! — deep amid disjointed stones. 

The wolves shall batten on his bones, 

And then shall his detested plaid. 

By bush and brier in mid-air stayed, 

Wave forth a banner fair and free, 570 

Meet signal for their revelry.' 

XXIV 

*Hush thee, poor maiden, and be still!' 
'O ! thou look'st kindly, and I will. 
Mine eye has dried and wasted been, 
But still it loves the Lincoln green; 
And, though mine ear is all unstrung. 
Still, still it loves the Lowland tongue. 

Tor O my sweet William was forester true; 

He stole poor Blanche's heart away! 
His coat it was all of the greenwood hue, 580 

And so blithely he trilled the Lowland lay! 

*It was not that I meant to tell. . . 
But thou art wise and guessest well.' 
Then, in a low and broken tone. 
And hurried note, the song went on. 
Still on the Clansman fearfully 
She fixed her apprehensive eye, 



100 The Lady of the Lake [Canto iv. 

Then turned it on the Knight, and then 
Her look glanced wildly o'er the glen. 

XXV 

^The toils are pitched, and the stakes are set, — 590 

Ever sing merrily, merrily; 
The bows they bend, and the knives they whet, 

Hunters live so cheerily. 

Tt was a stag, a stag of ten, 

Bearing its branches sturdily; 
He came stately down the glen, — 

Ever sing hardily, hardily. 

'It was there he met with a wounded doe; 

She was bleeding deathfully. 
She warned him of the toils below, 600 

O, so faithfully, faithfully! 

'He had an eye, and he could heed, — 

Ever sing warily, warily; 
He had a foot, and he could speed, — 

Hunters watch so narrowly.' 

XXVI 

Fitz- James's mind was passion-tossed. 

When Ellen's hints and fears were lost; 

But Murdoch's shout suspicion wrought, 

And Blanche's song conviction brought. 

Not like a stag that spies the snare, 610 

But lion of the hunt aware, 

He waved at once his blade on high. 

'Disclose thy treachery, or die!' 

Forth at full speed the Clansman flew, 

But in his race his bow he drew. 



Canto IV.] The Prophecy 1 01 

The shaft just grazed Fitz- James's crest, 

And thrilled in Blanche's faded breast. — 

Murdoch of Alpine! prove thy speed, 

For ne'er had Alpine's son such need; 

With heart of fire, and foot of wind, 620 

The fierce avenger is behind! 

Fate judges of the rapid strife — 

The forfeit death — the prize is life. 

Thy kindred ambush lies before, 

Close couched upon the heathery moor; 

Them couldst thou reach! — It may not be — 

Thine ambushed kin thou ne'er shalt see; 

The fiery Saxon gains on thee! — 

Resistless speeds the deadly thrust 

As lightning strikes the pine to dust; 630 

With foot and hand Fitz- James must strain 

Ere he can win his blade again. 

Bent o'er the fallen with falcon eye. 

He grimly smiled to see him die, 

Then slower wended back his way. 

Where the poor maiden bleeding lay. 

xxvnT 

She sat beneath the birchen tree, 

Her elbow resting on her knee; 

She had withdrawn the fatal shaft, 

And gazed on it, and feebly laughed; 640 

Her wreath of broom and feathers gray. 

Daggled with blood, beside her lay. 

The Knight to stanch the life-stream tried; — 

^Stranger, it is in vain!' she cried. 

^This hour of death has given me more 

Of reason's power than years before; 

For, as these ebbing veins decay, 

My frenzied visions fade away. 



102 The Lady of the Lake icanto iv. 

A helpless injured wretch I die, 

And something tells me in thine eye 650 

That thou wert mine avenger born. 

Seest thou this tress? — O, still I've worn 

This little tress of yellow hair 

Through danger, frenzy, and despair! 

It once was bright and clear as thine. 

But blood and tears have dimmed its shine. 

I will not tell thee when 'twas shred, 

Nor from what guiltless victim's head, — 

My brain would turn! — but it shall wave 

Like plumage on thy helmet brave, 660 

Till sun and. wind shall bleach the stain, 

And thou wilt bring it me again. 

I waver still. — O God! more bright 

Let reason beam her parting light! — 

O, by thy knighthood's honored sign, 

And for thy life preserved by mine, 

When thou shalt see a darksome man 

Who boasts him Chief of Alpine's Clan, 

With tartans broad and shadowy plume, 

And hand of blood, and brow of gloom, 670 

Be thy heart bold, thy weapon strong. 

And wreak poor Blanche of Devan's wrong! — 

They watch for thee by pass and fell . . . 

Avoid the path . . . O God! . . . farewell.' 

xxvin 

A kindly heart had brave Fitz- James; 

Fast poured his eyes at pity's claims; 

And now, with mingled grief and ire. 

He saw the murdered maid expire. 

^God, in my need, be my relief 

As I wreak this on yonder Chief!' 680 

A lock from Blanche's tresses fair 

He blended with her bridegroom's hair; 



Canto I V.J The Prophccy 103 

The mingled braid in blood he dyed, 

And placed it on his bonnet-side. 

'By Him whose word is truth, I swear 

No other favor will I wear 

Till this sad token I imbrue 

In the best blood of Roderick Dhu! — 

But hark! what means yon faint halloo? 

The chase is up, — but they shall know 690 

The stag at bay's a dangerous foe/ 

Barred from the known but guarded way, 

Through copse and cliffs Fitz- James must stray. 

And oft must change his desperate track. 

By stream and precipice turned back. 

Heartless, fatigued, and faint, at length. 

From lack of food and loss of strength. 

He couched him in a thicket hoar, 

And thought his toils and perils o'er. 

*Of all my rash adventures past, 700 

This frantic feat must prove the lastl 

Who e'er so mad but might have guessed 

That all this Highland hornet's nest 

Would muster up in swarms so soon 

As e'er they heard of bands at Doune ?— 

Like bloodhounds now they search me out, — 

Hark, to the whistle and the shout! — 

If farther through the wilds I go, 

I only fall upon the foe. 

I'll couch me here till evening gray, 710 

Then darkling try my dangerous way. 

XXIX 

The shades of eve come slowly down. 
The woods are wrapt in deeper brown, 
The owl awakens from her dell, 
The fox is heard upon the fell; 



104 The Lady of the Lake [Canto iv 

Enough remains of glimmering light 

To guide the wanderer's steps aright, 

Yet not enough from far to show 

His figure to the watchful foe. 

With cautious step and ear awake, 720 

He climbs the crag and threads the brake; 

And not the summer solstice there 

Tempered the midnight mountain air. 

But every breeze that swept the wold 

Benumbed his drenched Hmbs with cold. 

In dread, in danger, and alone. 

Famished and chilled, through ways unknown, 

Tangled and steep, he journeyed on. 

Till, as a rock's huge point he turned, 

A watch-fire close before him burned. 730 



XXX 



Beside its embers red and clear. 

Basked in his plaid a mountaineer; 

And up he sprung with sword in hand, — 

^Thy name and purpose! Saxon, stand!' 

^A stranger.' 'What dost thou require?' 

'Rest and a guide, and food and fire. 

My life's beset, my path is lost. 

The gale has chilled my limbs with frost.' 

'Art thou a friend to Roderick?' 'No.' 

'Thou dar'st not call thyself a foe?' 74c 

'I dare! to him and all the band 

He brings to aid his murderous hand.' 

'Bold words! — but, though the beast of game 

The privilege of chase may claim. 

Though space and law the stag we lend. 

Ere hound we slip or bow we bend. 

Who ever recked where, how, or when 

The prowling fox was trapped or slain? 



Canto iv] The Prophccy 105 

Thus treacherous scouts, — yet sure they He 

Who say thou cam'st a secret spy!' — 750 

*They do, by heaven! — Come Roderick Dhu, 

And of his clan the boldest two, 

And let me but till morning rest, 

I write the falsehood on their crest.' 

^If by the blaze I mark aright. 

Thou bear'st the belt and spur of Knight.' 

'Then by these tokens mayst thou know 

Each proud oppressor's mortal foe.' 

'Enough, enough; sit down and share 

A soldier's couch, a soldier's fare.' 760 

XXXI 

He gave him of his Highland cheer, 

The hardened flesh of mountain deer; 

Dry fuel on the fire he laid, 

And bade the Saxon share his plaid. 

He tended him like welcome guest. 

Then thus his further speech addressed: — 

'Stranger, I am to Roderick Dhu 

A clansman born, a kinsman true; 

Each word against his honor spoke 

Demands of me avenging stroke; 770 

Yet more, — upon thy fate, 'tis said, 

A mighty augury is laid. 

It rests with me to wind my horn, — 

Thou art with numbers overborne; 

It rests with me, here, brand to brand, 

Worn as thou art, to bid thee stand. 

But, not for clan, nor kindred's cause, 

Will I depart from honor's laws; 

To assail a wearied man were shame, 

And stranger is a holy name; 780 

Guidance and rest, and food and fire, 

In vain he never must require. 



io6 The Lady of the Lake [Canto iv. 

Then rest thee here till dawn of day; 

Myself will guide thee on the way, 

O'er stock and stone, through watch and ward, 

Till past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard, 

As far as Coilantogle's ford; 

From thence thy warrant is thy sword/ 

T take thy courtesy, by heaven, 

As freely as 'tis nobly given!' 790 

Well, rest thee; for the bittern's cry 

Sings us the lake's wild lullaby.' 

With that he shook the gathered heath, 

And spread his plaid upon the wreath; 

And the brave foemen, side by side. 

Lay peaceful down like brothers tried, 

And slept until the dawning beam 

Purpled the mountain and the stream. 




Stirling Castle 



CANTO FIFTH 



THE COMBAT 



Fair as the earliest beam of eastern light 

When first, by the bewildered pilgrim spied, 
It smiles upon the dreary brow of night, 

And silvers o'er the torrent's foaming tide. 
And lights the fearful path on mountain-side, — 

Fair as that beam, although the fairest far, 
Giving to horror grace, to danger pride, 

Shine martial Faith, and Courtesy's bright star. 
Through 'all the wreckful storms that cloud the brow of War. 

107 



io8 The Lady of the Lake [Canto v. 

II 

That early beam, so fair and sheen, lo 

Was twinkling through the hazel screen, 

When, rousing at its glimmer red, 

The warriors left their lowly bed. 

Looked out upon the dappled sky. 

Muttered their soldier matins by. 

And then awaked their fire, to steals 

As short and rude, their soldier meal. 

That o'er, the Gael around him threw 

His graceful plaid of varied hue. 

And, true to promise, led the way, 20 

By thicket green and mountain gray, 

A wildering path! — They winded now 

Along the precipice's brow. 

Commanding the rich scenes beneath. 

The windings of the Forth and Teith, 

And all the vales between that lie. 

Till Stirling's turrets melt in sky; 

Then, sunk in copse, their farthest glance 

Ga^ined not the length of horseman's lance. 

'Twas oft so steep the foot was fain 30 

Assistance from the hand to gain; 

So tangled oft that, bursting through. 

Each hawthorn shed her showers of dew, — 

That diamond dew, so pure and clear, 

It rivals all but Beauty's tear! 

Ill 

At length they came where, stern and steep, 

The hill sinks down upon the deep. 

Here Vennachar in silver flows, 

There, ridge on ridge, Benledi rose; 

Ever the hollow path twined on, 40 

Beneath steep bank and threatening stone; 



Canto V.] The Combat 109 

A hundred men might hold the post 

With hardihood against a host. 

The rugged mountain's scanty cloak 

Was dwarfish shrubs of birch and oak, 

With shingles bare, and cliffs between. 

And patches bright of bracken green. 

And heather black, that waved so high 

It held the copse in rivalry. 

But where the lake slept deep and still, 50 

Dank osiers fringed the swamp and hill; 

And oft both path and hill were torn, 

Where wintry torrent down had borne 

And heaped upon the cumbered land 

Its wreck of gravel, rocks, and sand. 

So toilsome was the road to trace. 

The guide, abating of his pace. 

Led slowly through the pass's jaws, 

And asked Fitz- James by what strange cause 

He sought these wilds, traversed by few, 60 

Without a pass from Roderick Dhu. 

IV 

^Brave Gael, my pass, in danger tried, 

Hangs in my belt and by my side; 

Yet, sooth to tell,' the Saxon said, 

T dreamt not now to claim its aid. 

When here, but three days since, I came, 

Bewildered in pursuit erf game. 

All seemed as peaceful and as still 

As the mist slumbering on yon hill; 

Thy dangerous Chief was then afar, 70 

Nor soon expected back from war. 

Thus said, at least, my mountain-guide. 

Though deep perchance the villain lied.' 

*Yet why a second venture try?' 

^A warrior thou, and ask me why! — 



no The Lady of the Lake [Canto v. 

Moves our free course by such fixed cause 

As gives the poor mechanic laws? 

Enough, I sought to drive away 

The lazy hours of peaceful day; 

Slight cause will then suffice to guide 80 

A Knight's free footsteps far and wide, — 

A falcon flown, a greyhound strayed, 

The merry glance of mountain maid; 

Or, if a path be dangerous known, 

The danger's self is lure alone.' 



*Thy secret keep, I urge thee not; — 

Yet, ere again ye sought this spot. 

Say, heard ye naught of Lowland war 

Against Clan-Alpine, raised by Mar?' 

*No, by my word; — of bands prepared 90 

To guard King James's sports I heard; 

Nor doubt I aught, but, when they hear 

This muster of the mountaineer. 

Their pennons will abroad be flung. 

Which else in Doune had peaceful hung.' 

Tree be they flung! for we were loath 

Their silken folds should feast the moth. 

Free be they flung! — as free shall wave 

Clan-Alpine's pine in banner brave. 

But, stranger, peaceful since you came, 100 

Bewildered in the mountain-game, 

Whence the bold boast by which you show 

Vich-Alpine's vowed and mortal foe?' 

/Warrior, but yester-morn I knew 

Naught of thy Chieftain, Roderick Dhu, 

Save as an outlawed desperate man. 

The chief of a rebellious clan, 

Who, in the Regent's court and sight, 

With ruflian dagger stabbed a knight; 



Canto V.] The Combat III 

Yet this alone might from his part no 

Sever each true and loyal heart.' 



VI 



Wrathful at such arraignment foul, 

Dark lowered the clansman's sable scowl. 

A space he paused, then sternly said, 

'And heardst thou why he drew his blade ? 

Heardst thou that shameful word and blow 

Brought Roderick's vengeance on his foe? 

What recked the Chieftain if he stood 

On Highland heath or Holy-Rood? 

He rights such wrong where it is given, 120 

If it were in the court of heaven.' 

'Still was it outrage; — yet, 'tis true, 

Not then claimed sovereignty his due; 

While Albany with feeble hand 

Held borrowed truncheon of command. 

The young King, mewed in Stirling tower, 

Was stranger to respect and power. 

But then, thy Chieftain's robber life! — 

Winning mean prey by causeless strife. 

Wrenching from ruined Lowland swain 130 

His herds and harvest reared in vain, — 

Methinks a soul like thine should scorn 

The spoils from such foul foray borne.' 



vn 



The Gael beheld him grim the while, 
And answered with disdainful smile: 
'Saxon, from yonder mountain high, 
I marked thee send delighted eye 
Far to the south and east, where lay, 
Extended in succession gay, 



112 The Lady of the Lake [Canto v. 

Deep waving fields and pastures green, 140 

With gentle slopes and groves between. 

These fertile plains, that softened vale, 

Were once the birthright of the Gael; 

The stranger came with iron hand, 

And from our fathers reft the land. 

Where dwell we now? See, rudely swell 

Crag over crag, and fell o'er fell. 

Ask we this savage hill we tread 

For fattened steer or household bread, 

Ask we for flocks these shingles dry, 150 

And well the mountain might reply, — 

"To you, as to your sires of yore. 

Belong the target and claymore! 

I give you shelter in my breast, 

Your own good blades must win the rest." 

Pent in this fortress of the North, 

Think'st thou we will not sally forth 

To spoil the spoiler as we may. 

And from the robber rend the prey? 

Ay, by my soul! — While on yon plain 160 

The Saxon rears one shock of grain. 

While of ten thousand herds there strays 

But one along yon river's maze. 

The Gael, of plain and river heir, 

Shall with strong hand redeem his share. 

Where live the mountain Chiefs who hold 

That plundering Lowland field and fold 

Is aught but retribution true? 

Seek other cause 'gainst Roderick Dhu.' 

VIII 

Answered Fitz- James: ^And, if I sought, 170 

Think'st thou no other could be brought? 
What deem ye of my path waylaid? 
My life given o'er to ambuscade?' 



Canto v.i The Combat 



"3 



'As of a meed to rashness due. 

Hadst thou sent warning fair and true, — 

I seek my hound or falcon strayed, 

I seek, good faith, a Highland maid, — 

Free hadst thou been to come and go; 

But secret path marks secret foe. 

Nor yet for this, even as a spy, i8o 

Hadst thou, unheard, been doomed to die, 

Save to fulfil an augury.' 

Well, let it pass; nor will I now 

Fresh cause of enmity avow. 

To chafe thy mood and cloud thy brow. 

Enough, I am by promise tied 

To match me with this man of pride. 

Twice have I sought Clan-Alpine's glen 

Tn peace; but when I come again, 

I come with banner, brand, and bow, 190 

As leader seeks his mortal foe. 

For love-lorn swain in lady's bower 

Ne'er panted for the appointed hour, 

As I, until before me stand 

This rebel Chieftain and his band!' 

IX 

'Have then thy wish!' He whistled shrill, 

And he was answered from the hill; 

Wild as the scream of the curlew. 

From crag to crag the signal flew. 

Instant, through copse and heath, arose 200 

Bonnets and spears and bended bows; 

On right, on left, above, below. 

Sprung up at once the lurking foe; 

From shingles gray their lances start. 

The bracken bush sends forth the dart. 

The rushes and the willow- wand 

Are bristling into axe and brand, 



114 The Lady of the Lake [Canto v. 

And every tuft of broom gives life 

To plaided warrior armed for strife. 

That v^^histle garrisoned the glen 210 

At once with full five hundred men, 

As if the yawning hill to haaven 

A subterranean host had given. 

Watching their leader's beck and will. 

All silent there they stood and still. 

Like the loose crags whose threatening mass 

Lay tottering o'er the hollow pass, 

As if an infant's touch could urge 

Their headlong passage down the verge, 

With step and weapon forward flung, 220 

Upon the mountain-side they hung. 

The Mountaineer cast glance of pride 

Along Benledi's living side, 

Then fixed his eye and sable brow 

Full on Fitz- James. 'How say'st thou now? 

These are Clan-Alpine's warriors true; 

And, Saxon, — I am Roderick Dhu!' 



Fitz- James was brave; — though to his heart 

The life-blood thrilled with sudden start. 

He manned himself with dauntless air, 230 

Returned the Chief his haughty stare. 

His back against a rock he bore. 

And firmly placed his foot before. — 

^Come one, come all! this rock shall fly 

From its firm base as soon as I.' 

Sir Roderick marked, — and in his eyes 

Respect was mingled with surprise, 

And the stern joy which warriors feel 

In foeman worthy of their steel. 

Short space he stood — then waved his hand. 240 

Down sunk the disappearing band; 



Canto V] The CoiTlbat II5 

Each warrior vanished where he stood, 

In broom or bracken, heath or wood; 

Sunk brand and spear and bended bow, 

In osiers pale and copses low. 

It seemed as if their mother Earth 

Had swallowed up her warlike birth. 

The wind's last breath had tossed in air 

Pennon and plaid and plumage fair, — 

The next but swept a lone hillside, 250 

Where heath and fern were waving wide; 

The sun's last glance was glinted back 

From spear and glaive, from targe and jack, — 

And next, all unreflected, shone 

On bracken green and cold gray stone. 

XI 

Fitz- James looked round, — yet scarce believed 

The witness that his sight received; 

Such apparition well might seem 

Delusion of a dreadful dream. 

Sir Roderick in suspense he eyed, 260 

And to his look the Chief replied: 

Tear naught — nay, that I need not say — 

But — doubt not aught from mine array. 

Thou art my guest; — I pledged my word 

As far as Coilantogle ford; 

Nor would I call a clansman's brand 

For aid against one valiant hand. 

Though on our strife lay every vale 

Rent by the Saxon from the Gael. 

So move we on; — I only meant 270 

To show the reed on which you leant. 

Deeming this path you might pursue 

Without a pass from Roderick Dhu.' 

They moved. — I said Fitz- James was brave 

As ever knight that belted glaive. 



Ii6 The Lady .of the Lake [Canto v. 

Yet dare not say that now his blood 

Kept on its wont and tempered flood, 

As, following Roderick's stride, he drew 

That seeming lonesome pathway through, 

Which yet by fearful proof was rife 280 

With' lances, that, to take his life, 

Waited but signal from a guide. 

So late dishonored and defied. 

Ever, by stealth, his eye sought round 

The vanished guardians of the ground, 

And still from copse and heather deep 

Fancy saw spear and broadsword peep, 

And in the plover's shrilly strain 

The signal whistle heard again. 

Nor breathed he free till far behind 290 

The pass was left; for then they wind 

Along a wide and level green. 

Where neither tree nor tuft was seen. 

Nor rush nor bush of broom was near, 

To hide a bonnet or a spear. 



xn 



The Chief in silence strode before, 

And reached that torrent's sounding shore, 

Which, daughter of three mighty lakes. 

From Vennachar in silver breaks, 

Sweeps through the plain, and ceaseless mines 300 

On Bochastle the mouldering lines, 

Where Rome, the Empress of the world. 

Of yore her eagle wings unfurled. 

And here his course the Chieftain stayed, 

Threw down his target and his plaid. 

And to the Lowland warrior said: 

'Bold Saxon! to his promise just, 

Vich-Alpine has discharged his trust. 



Canto V.J The Combat 117 

This murderous Chief, this ruthless man, 

This head of a rebellious clan, 310 

Hath led thee safe, through watch and ward, 

Far past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard. 

Now, man to man, and steel to steel, 

A Chieftain's vengeance thou shalt feel. 

See, here all vantageless I stand, 

Armed like thyself with single brand; 

For this is Coilantogle ford. 

And thou must keep thee with thy sword.' 



xin 



The Saxon paused. T ne'er delayed. 

When foeman bade me draw my blade; 320 

Nay more, brave Chief, I vowed thy death; 

Yet sure thy fair and generous faith. 

And my deep debt for life preserved, 

A better meed have well deserved. 

Can naught but blood our feud atone? 

Are there no means?' — ^No, stranger, none! 

And hear, — to fire thy flagging zeal, — 

The Saxon cause rests on thy steel; 

For thus spoke Fate by prophet bred 

Between the living and the dead: 330 

"Who spills the foremost foeman's life, 

His party conquers in the strife." ' 

*Then, by my word,' the Saxon said, 

'The riddle is already read. 

Seek yonder brake beneath the cliff, — 

There lies Red Murdoch, stark and stiff. 

Thus Fate hath solved her prophecy; 

Then yield to Fate, and not to me. 

To James at Stirling let us go, 

When, if thou wilt be still his foe, 340 

Or if the King shall not agree 



Ii8 The Lady of the Lake [Canto v. 

To grant thee grace and favor free, 
I plight mine honor, oath, and word 
That, to thy native strengths restored, 
With each advantage shalt thou stand 
That aids thee now to guard thy land/ 



XIV 



Dark lightning flashed from Roderick's eye. 

^Soars thy presumption, then, so high. 

Because a wretched kern ye slew, 

Homage to name to Roderick Dhu? 350 

He yields not, he, to man nor Fate! 

Thou add'st but fuel to my hate; — 

My clansman's blood demands revenge. 

Not yet prepared ? — By heaven, I change 

My thought, and hold thy valor light 

As that of some vain carpet knight, 

Who ill deserved my courteous care, 

And whose best boast is but to wear 

A braid of his fair lady's hair.' 

T thank thee, Roderick, for the word! 360 

It nerves my heart, it steels my sword; 

For I have sworn this braid to stain 

In the best blood that warms thy vein. 

Now, truce, farewell! and, ruth, begone! — 

Yet think not that by thee alone, 

Proud Chief! :an courtesy be shown; 

Though not- from copse, or heath, or cairn, 

Start at my whistle clansmen stern. 

Of this small horn one feeble blast 

Would fearful odds against thee cast. 370 

But fear not — doubt not — which thou wilt — 

We try this quarrel hilt to hilt.' 

Then each at once his falchion drew. 

Each on the ground his scabbard threw, 



Canto V.J The Combat 119 

Each looked to sun and stream and plain 
As what they ne'er might see again; 
Then foot and point and eye opposed, 
In dubious strife they darkly closed. 

XV 

111 fared it then with Roderick Dhu 

That on the field his targe he threw, 380 

Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hide 

Had death so often dashed aside; 

For, trained abroad his arms to wield, 

Fitz- James's blade was sword and shield. 

He practised every pass and ward, 

To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard; 

While less expert, though stronger far, 

The Gael maintained unequal war. 

Three times in closing strife they stood, 

And thrice the Saxon blade drank blood; 390 

No stinted draught, no scanty tide. 

The gushing flood the tartans dyed. 

Fierce Roderick felt the fatal drain. 

And showered his blows like wintry rain; 

And, as firm rock or castle-roof 

Against the winter shower is proof, 

The foe, invulnerable still. 

Foiled his wild rage by steady skill; 

Till, at advantage ta'en, his brand 

Forced Roderick's weapon from his hand, 400 

And backward borne upon the lea, 

Brought the proud Chieftain to his knee. 

XVI 

*Now yield thee, or by Him who made 
The world, thy heart's blood dyes my blade!' 
^Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy! 
Let recreant yield, who fears to die.' 



120 The Lady of the Lake [Canto v. 

Like adder darting from his coil, 

Like wolf that dashes through the toil, 

Like mountain-cat who guards her young. 

Full at Fitz- James's throat he sprung; 410 

Received, but recked not of a wound. 

And locked his arms his foeman round. — 

Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own! 

No maiden's hand. is round thee thrown! 

That desperate grasp thy frame might feel 

Through bars of brass and triple steel! 

They tug, they strain! down, down they go. 

The Gael above, Fitz- James below. 

The Chieftain's gripe his throat compressed. 

His knee was planted on his breast; 420 

His clotted locks he backward threw, 

Across his brow his hand he drew. 

From blood and mist to clear his sight. 

Then gleamed aloft his dagger bright! 

But hate and fury ill supplied 

The stream of life's exhausted tide. 

And all too late the advantage came, 

To turn the odds of deadly game; 

For, while the dagger gleamed on high. 

Reeled soul and sense, reeled brain and eye. 430 

Down came the blow! but in the heath 

The erring blade found bloodless sheath. 

The struggling foe may now unclasp 

The fainting Chief's relaxing grasp; 

Unwounded from the dreadful close, 

But breathless all, Fitz- James arose. 

xvn 

He faltered thanks to Heaven for life, 

Redeemed, unhoped, from desperate strife; 

Next on his foe his look he cast. 

Whose every gasp appeared his last; 440 



Canto v] The Combat 121 

In Roderick's gore he dipped the braid, — 
Toor Blanche! thy wrongs are dearly paid; 
Yet with thy foe must die, or live. 
The praise that faith and valor give.' 
With that he blew a bugle note. 
Undid the collar from his throat, 
Unbonneted, and by the wave 
Sat down his brow and hands to lave. 
Then faint afar are heard the feet 
Of rushing steeds in gallop fleet; 450 

The sounds increase, and now are seen 
Four mounted squires in Lincoln green. 
Two who bear lance, and two who lead 
^ By loosened rein a saddled steed. 
Each onward held his headlong course, 
And by Fitz- James reined up his horse, — 
With wonder viewed the bloody spot. — 
'Exclaim not, gallants! question not. — 
You, Herbert and Luflness, alight. 
And bind the wounds of yonder knight; 460 

Let the gray palfrey bear his weight 
We destined for a fairer freight. 
And bring him on to Stirling straight; 
I will before at better speed. 
To seek fresh horse and fitting weed. 
The sun rides high; — I must be boune 
To see the archer-game at noon; 
But lightly Bayard clears the lea. — 
De Vaux and Herries, follow me. 

xvin 

'Stand, Bayard, stand!' — The steed obeyed, 470 

With arching neck and bended head. 

And glancing eye and quivering ear. 

As if he loved his lord to hear. 

No foot Fitz- James in stirrup stayed. 

No grasp upon the saddle laid, 



122 The Lady of the Lake [Canto v. 

But wreathed his left hand in the mane, 

And lightly bounded from the plain, 

Turned on the horse his armed heel. 

And stirred his courage with the steel. 

Bounded the fiery steed in air, 480 

The rider sat erect and fair. 

Then like a bolt from steel crossbow 

Forth launched, along the plain they go. 

They dashed that rapid torrent through. 

And up Carhonie's hill they flew. 

Still at the gallop pricked the Knight; 

His merrymen followed as they might. 

Along thy banks, swift Teith! they ride, 

And in the race they mock thy tide; 

Torry and Lendrick now are past, 490 

And Deanstown lies behind them cast; 

They rise, the bannered towers of Doune, 

They sink in distant woodland soon; 

Blair-Drummond sees the hoofs strike fire. 

They sweep like breeze through Ochtertyre; 

They mark just glance and disappear 

The lofty brow of ancient Kier; 

They bathe their coursers' sweltering sides. 

Dark Forth! amid thy sluggish tides. 

And on the opposing shore take ground, 500 

With plash, with scramble, and with bound. 

Right-hand they leave thy cliffs, Craig-Forth! 

And soon the bulwark of the North, 

Gray Stirling, with her towers and town. 

Upon their fleet career looked down. 

XIX 

As up the flinty path they strained. 
Sudden his steed the leader reined; 
A signal to his squire he flung, 
Who instant to his stirrup sprung. — 



Canto V.] The Combat 123 

'Seest thou, De Vaux, yon woodsman gray, 510 

Who townward holds the rocky way, 

Of stature tall and poor array? 

Mark' St thou the firm yet active stride 

With which he scales the mountain-side? 

Know'st thou from whence he comes, or whom?' 

^No, by my word; — a burly groom 

He seems, who in the field or chase 

A baron's train would nobly grace — ' 

*Out, out, De Vaux! can fear supply. 

And jealousy, no sharper eye? 520 

Afar, ere to the hill he drew. 

That stately form and step I knew; 

Like form in Scotland is not seen. 

Treads not such step on Scottish green. 

'Tis James of Douglas, by Saint Serle! 

The uncle of the banished Earl. 

Away, away, to court, to show 

The near approach of dreaded foe. 

The King must stand upon his guard; 

Douglas and he must meet prepared.' 530 

Then right-hand wheeled their steeds, and straight 

They won the Castle's postern gate. 



XX 



The Douglas, who had bent his way 

From Cambus-kenneth's abbey gray, 

Now, as he climbed the rocky shelf, 

Held sad communion with himself: — 

*Yes! all is true my fears could frame; 

A prisoner lies the noble Graeme, 

And fiery Roderick soon will feel 

The vengeance of the royal steel. 540 

I, only I, can ward their fate, — 

God grant the ransom come not late! 



124 The Lady of the Lake [Canto v. 

The Abbess hath her promise given 

My child shall be the bride of Heaven; — 

Be pardoned one repining tear! 

For He who gave her knows how dear, 

How excellent! — But that is by, 

And now my business is — to die. — 

Ye towers! within whose circuit dread 

A Douglas by his sovereign bled; 550 

And thou, O sad and fatal mound! 

That oft hast heard the death-axe sound. 

As on the noblest of the land 

Fell the stern headsman's bloody hand, — 

The dungeon, block, and nameless tomb 

Prepare, — for Douglas seeks his doom! 

But hark! what blithe and jolly peal 

Makes the Franciscan steeple reel? 

And see! upon the crowded street, 

In motley groups what masquers meet! 560 

Banner and pageant, pipe and drum, 

And merry morrice- dancers come. 

I guess, by all this quaint array, 

The burghers hold their sports to-day. 

James will be there; he loves such show, 

Where the good yeoman bends his bow, 

And the tough wrestler foils his foe, 

As well as where, in proud career, 

The high-born tilter shivers spear. 

I'll follow to the Castle-park, 570 

And play my prize; — King James shall mark 

If age has tamed these sinews stark. 

Whose force so oft in happier days 

His boyish wonder loved to praise.' 

XXI 

The Castle gates were open flung, 

The quivering drawbridge rocked and rung, 



Canto V.J The Combat 125 

And echoed loud the flinty street 

Beneath the coursers' clattering feet, 

As slowly down the steep descent 

Fair Scotland's King and nobles went, 580 

While all along the crowded way 

Was jubilee and loud huzza. 

And ever James was bending low 

To his white jennet's saddle-bow. 

Doffing his cap to city dame, 

Who smiled and blushed for pride and shame. 

And well the simperer might be vain, — 

He chose the fairest of the train. 

Gravely he greets each city sire, 

Commends each pageant's quaint attire, 590 

Gives to the dancers thanks aloud, 

And smiles and nods upon the crowd. 

Who rend the heavens with their acclaims, — 

*Long live the Commons' King, King James!' 

Behind the King thronged peer and knight. 

And noble dame and damsel bright. 

Whose fiery steeds ill brooked the stay 

Of the steep street and crowded way. 

But in the train you might discern 

Dark lowering brow and visage stern; 600 

There nobles mourned their pride restrained, 

And the mean burgher's joys disdained; 

And chiefs, who, hostage for their clan. 

Were each from home a banished man. 

There thought upon their own gray tower, 

Their waving woods, their feudal power. 

And deemed themselves a shameful part 

Of pageant which they cursed in heart. 

XXII 

Now, in the Castle-park, drew out 

Their checkered bands the joyous rout. 610 



126 The Lady of the Lake icanto v. 

There morricers, with bell at heel 

And blade in hand, their mazes wheel; 

But chief, beside the butts, there stand 

Bold Robin Hood and all his band,-^ 

Friar Tuck with quarterstaff and cowl, 

Old Scathelocke with his surly scowl. 

Maid Marian, fair as ivory bone, 

Scarlet, and Mutch, and Little John. 

Their bugles challenge all that will, 

In archery to prove their skill. 620 

The Douglas bent a bow of might, — 

His first shaft centred in the white. 

And when in turn he shot again. 

His second split the first in twain. 

From the King's hand must Douglas take 

A silver dart, the archers' stake; 

Fondly he watched, with watery eye. 

Some answering glance of sympathy, — 

No kind emotion made reply! 

Indifferent as to archer wight, 630 

The monarch gave the arrow bright. 

XXIII 

Now, clear the ring! for, hand to hand, 

The manly wrestlers take their stand. 

Two o'er the rest superior rose. 

And proud demanded mightier foes, — 

Nor called in vain, for Douglas came. — 

For life is Hugh of Larbert lame; 

Scarce better John of Alloa's fare. 

Whom senseless home his comrades bare. 

Prize of the wrestling match, the King 640 

To Douglas gave a golden ring. 

While coldly glanced his eye of blue, 

As frozen drop of wintry dew. 



] The Combat 127 

Douglas would speak, but in his breast 

His struggling soul his words suppressed; 

Indignant then he turned him where 

Their arms the brawny yeomen bare, 

To hurl the massive bar in air. 

When each his utmost strength had shown, 

The Douglas rent an earth-fast stone 650 

From its deep bed, then heaved it high, 

And sent the fragment through the sky 

A rood beyond the farthest mark; 

x\nd still in Stirling's royal park, 

The gray-haired sires, who know the past, 

To strangers point the Douglas cast, 

And moralize on the decay 

Of Scottish strength in modern day. 

xxrv 

The vale with loud applauses rang. 

The Ladies' Rock sent back the clang. 660 

The King, with look unmoved, bestowed 

A purse well filled with pieces broad. 

Indignant smiled the Douglas proud, 

And threw the gold among the crowd. 

Who now with anxious wonder scan. 

And sharper glance, the dark gray man; 

Till whispers rose among the throng. 

That heart so free, and hand so strong. 

Must to the Douglas blood belong. 

The old men marked and shook the head, 670 

To see his hair with silver spread. 

And winked aside, and told each son 

Of feats upon the English done. 

Ere Douglas of the stalwart hand 

Was exiled from his native land. 

The women praised his stately form, 

Though wrecked by many a winter's storm; 



128 The Lady of the Lake icanto v. 

The youth with awe and wonder saw 

His strength surpassing Nature's law. 

Thus judged, as is their wont, the crowd, 680 

Till murmurs rose to clamors loud. 

But not a glance from that proud ring 

Of peers who circled round the King 

With Douglas held communion kind, 

Or called the banished man to mind; 

No, not from those who at the chase 

Once held his side the honored place. 

Begirt his board, and in the field 

Found safety underneath his shield; 

For he whom royal eyes disown, 690 

When was his form to courtiers known! 

XXV 

The Monarch saw the gambols flag. 

And bade let loose a gallant stag. 

Whose pride, the holiday to crown, 

Two favorite greyhounds should pull down, 

That venison free and Bourdeaux wine 

Might serve the archery to dine. 

But Lufra, — whom from Douglas' side 

Nor bribe nor threat could e'er divide. 

The fleetest hound in all the North, — 700 

Brave Lufra saw, and darted forth. 

She left the royal hounds midway. 

And dashing on the antlered prey, 

Sunk her sharp muzzle in his flank. 

And deep the flowing life-blood drank. 

The King's stout huntsman saw the sport 

By strange intruder broken short. 

Came up, and with his leash unbound 

In anger struck the noble hound. 

The Douglas had endured, that morn, 710 

The King's cold look, the nobles' scorn, 



V] The Combat 129 

And last, and worst to spirit proud, 

Had borne the pity of the crowd; 

But Lufra had been fondly bred, 

To share his board, to watch his bed. 

And oft would Ellen Lufra's neck 

In maiden glee with garlands deck; 

They were such playmates that with name 

Of Lufra Ellen's image came. 

His stifled wrath is brimming high, 720 

In darkened brow and flashing eye; 

As waves before the bark divide, 

The crowd gave way before his stride. 

Needs but a buffet and no more; 

The groom lies senseless in his gore. 

Such blow no other hand could deal, 

Though gauntleted in glove of steel. 

XXVI 

Then clamored loud the royal train. 

And brandished swords and staves amain. 

But stern the Baron's warning: ^Back! 730 

Back, on your lives, ye menial pack! 

Beware the Douglas. — Yes! behold, 

King James! The Douglas, doomed of old^ 

And vainly sought for near and far, 

A victim to atone the war, 

A willing victim, now attends. 

Nor craves thy grace but for his friends.' — 

^Thus is my clemency repaid? 

Presumptuous Lord!' the Monarch said. 

'Of thy misproud ambitious clan, 740 

Thou, James of Bothwell, wert the man, 

The only man, in whom a foe 

My woman-mercy would not know; 

But shall a Monarch's presence brook 

Injurious blow and haughty look? — 



130 The Lady of the Lake [canto v. 

What ho! the Captain of our Guard! 

Give the offender fitting ward. — 

Break off the sports!' — for tumult rose, 

And yeomen 'gan to bend their bows, — 

'Break off the sports!' he said and frowned, 750 

'And bid our horsemen clear the ground.' 

xxvn 

Then uproar wild and misarray 
Marred the fair form of festal day. 
The horsemen pricked among the crowd, 
Repelled by threats and insult loud; 
To earth are borne the old and weak, 
The timorous fly, the women shriek; 
With flint, with shaft, with staff, with bar, 
The hardier urge tumultuous war. 
At once round Douglas darkly sweep 760 

The royal spears in circle deep. 
And slowly scale the pathway steep, 
While on the rear in thunder pour 
The rabble with disordered roar. 
With grief the noble Douglas saw 
The Commons rise against the law. 
And to the leading soldier said, 
'Sir John of Hyndford, 'twas my blade 
That knighthood on thy shoulder laid; 
For that good deed permit me then 770 

• A word with these misguided men. — 

XXVIII 

'Hear, gentle friends, ere yet for me 
Ye break the bands of fealty. 
My life, my honor, and my cause 
I tender free to Scotland's laws. 
Are these so weak as must require 
The aid of your misguided ire? 



v.] The Combat 131 

Or if I suffer causeless wrong, 

Is then my selfish rage so strong, 

My sense of public weal so low, 780 

That, for mean vengeance on a foe, 

Those cords of love I should unbind 

Which knit my country and my kind? 

O no! Believe, in yonder tower 

It will not soothe my captive hour. 

To know those spears our foes should dread 

For me in kindred gore are red; 

To know, in fruitless brawl begun, 

For me that mother wails her son, 

For me that widow's mate expires, 790 

For me that orphans weep their sires, 

That patriots mourn insulted laws. 

And curse the Douglas for the cause. 

O let your patience ward such ill, 

And keep your right to love me still!' 

XXIX 

The crowd's wild fury sunk again 

In tears, as tempests melt in rain. 

With lifted hands and eyes, they prayed 

For blessings on his generous head 

Who for his country felt alone, 800 

And prized her blood beyond his own. 

Old men upon the verge of life 

Blessed him who stayed the civil strife; 

And mothers held their babes on high, 

The self-devoted Chief to spy. 

Triumphant over wrongs and ire. 

To whom the prattlers owed a sire. 

Even the rough soldier's heart was moved; 

As if behind some bier beloved. 

With trailing arms and drooping head, 810 

The Douglas up the hill he led, 



132 The Lady of the Lake [Canto v. 

And at the Castle's battled verge, 
With sighs resigned his honored charge. 



XXX 



The offended Monarch rode apart, 

With bitter thought and swelling heart. 

And would not now vouchsafe again 

Through Stirling streets to lead his train. 

*0 Lennox, who would wish to rule 

This changeling crowd, this common fool? 

Hear'st thou,' he said, 'the loud acclaim 820 

With which they shout the Douglas name? 

With like acclaim the vulgar throat 

Strained for King James their morning note; 

With like acclaim they hailed the day 

When first I broke the Douglas sway; 

And like acclaim would Douglas greet 

If he could hurl me from my seat. 

Who o'er the herd would wish to reign, 

Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain? 

Vain as the leaf upon the stream, 830 

And fickle as a changeful dream; 

Fantastic as a woman's mood. 

And fierce as Frenzy's fevered blood. 

Thou many-headed monster-thing, 

who would wish to be thy king ? — 

XXXI 

^But soft! what messenger of speed 
Spurs hitherward his panting steed? 

1 guess his cognizance afar — 

What from our cousin, John of Mar?' 

^He prays, my liege, your sports keep bound 840 

Within the safe and guarded ground; 



Canto vj The Combat 133 

For some foul purpose yet unknown,— 

Most sure for evil to the throne, — 

The outlawed Chieftain, Roderick Dhu, 

Has summoned his rebellious crew; 

'Tis said, in James of Bothwell's aid 

These loose banditti stand arrayed. 

The Earl of Mar this morn from Doune 

To break their muster marched, and soon 

Your Grace will hear of battle fought; 850 

But earnestly the Earl besought, 

Till for such danger he provide. 

With scanty train you will not ride.' 

XXXII 

*Thou warn'st me I have done amiss, — 

I should have earlier looked to this; 

I lost it in this bustling day. — 

Retrace with speed thy former way; 

Spare not for spoiling of thy steed, — 

The best of mine shall be thy meed. 

Say to our faithful Lord of Mar, 860 

We do forbid the mtended war; 

Roderick this morn in single fight 

Was made our prisoner by a knight. 

And Douglas hath himself and cause 

Submitted to our kingdom's laws. 

The tidings of their leaders lost 

Will soon dissolve the mountain host. 

Nor would we that the vulgar feel, 

For their Chief's crimes, avenging steel. 

Bear Mar our message, Braco, fly!' 870 

He turned his steed, — ^My liege, I hie, 

Yet ere I cross this lily lawn 

I fear the broadswords will be drawn.' 

The turf the flying courser spurned. 

And to his towers the King returned, 



134 The Lady of the Lake [Canto v. 

XXXIII 

111 with King James's mood that day 

Suited gay feast and minstrel lay; 

Soon were dismissed the courtly throng, 

And soon cut short the festal song. 

Nor less upon the saddened town - 880 

The evening sunk in sorrow down. 

The burghers spoke of civil jar, 

Of rumored feuds and mountain war. 

Of Moray, Mar, and Roderick Dhu, 

All up in arms; — the Douglas too, 

They mourned him pent within the hold, 

Where stout Earl William was of old.' — 

And there his word the speaker stayed. 

And finger on his lip he laid, 

Or pointed to his dagger blade. 890 

But jaded horsemen from the west 

At evening to the Castle pressed. 

And busy talkers said they bore 

Tidings of fight on Katrine's shore; 

At noon the deadly fray begun. 

And lasted till the set of sun. 

Thus giddy rumor shook the town. 

Till closed the Night her pennons brown. 




T<' .-" 



,,^^^^- 

-^p 



Loch Achray and Benvenue 
CANTO SIXTH 

THE GUARD-ROOM 



The sun, awakening, through the smoky air 

Of the dark city casts a sullen glance. 
Rousing each caitiff to his task of care, 

Of sinful man the sad inheritance; 
Summoning revellers from the lagging dance, 

Scaring the prowling robber to his den; 
Gilding on battled tower the warder's lance. 

And warning student pale to leave his pen. 
And yield his drowsy eyes to the kind nurse of men. 

135 



136 The Lady of the Lake [Canto vi. 

What various scenes, and O, what scenes of woe 10 

Are witnessed by that red and struggling beam! 
The fevered patient, from his pallet low, 

Through crowded hospital beholds it stream; 
The ruined maiden trembles at its gleam. 

The debtor wakes to thought of gyve and jail, 
The love-lorn wretch starts from tormenting dream; 

The wakeful mother, by the glimmering pale, 
Trims her sick infant's couch, and soothes his feeble wail. 



n 



At dawn the towers of Stirling rang 

With soldier-step and weapon-clang, 20 

While drums with rolling note foretell 

Relief to weary sentinel. 

Through narrow loop and casement barred, 

The sunbeams sought the Court of Guard, 

And, struggling with the smoky air. 

Deadened the torches' yellow glare. 

In comfortless alliance shone 

The lights through arch of blackened stone, 

And showed wild shapes in garb of war. 

Faces deformed with beard and scar, 30 

All haggard from the midnight watch. 

And fevered with the stern debauch; 

For the oak table's massive board. 

Flooded with wine, with fragments stored, 

And beakers drained, and cups o'erthrown. 

Showed in what sport the night had flown. 

Some, weary, snored on floor and bench; 

Some labored still their thirst to quench; 

Some, chilled with watching, spread their hands 

O'er the huge chimney's dying brands, 40 

While round them, or beside them flung. 

At every step their harness rung. 



Canto vi.i The Guard-rooiTi 137 

in 

These drew not for their fields the sword, 

Like tenants of a feudal lord, 

Nor owned the patriarchal claim 

Of Chieftain in their leader's name; 

Adventurers they, from far who roved, 

To live by battle which they loved. 

There the Italian's clouded face, 

The swarthy Spaniard's there you trace; 50 

The mountain-loving Switzer there 

More freely breathed in mountain air; 

The Fleming there despised the soil 

That paid so ill the laborer's toil; 

Their rolls showed French and German name; 

And merry England's exiles came. 

To share, with ill-concealed disdain, 

Of Scotland's pay the scanty gain. 

All brave in arms, well trained to wield 

The heavy halberd, brand, and shield; 60 

In camps licentious, wild, and bold; 

In pillage fierce and uncontrolled; 

And now, by holytide and feast. 

From rules of discipline released. 

rv 

They held debate of bloody fray. 

Fought 'twixt Loch Katrine and Achray. 

Fierce was their speech, and mid their words 

Their hands oft grappled to their swords; 

Nor sunk their tone to spare the ear 

Of wounded comrades groaning near, 70 

Whose mangled limbs and bodies gored 

Bore token of the mountain sword. 

Though, neighboring to the Court of Guard, 

Their prayers and feverish wails were heard, — 



13^ The Lady of the Lake [Canto vi. 

Sad burden to the ruffian joke, 

And savage oath by fury spoke! — 

At length up started John of Brent, 

A yeoman from the banks of Trent; 

A stranger to respect or fear, 

In peace a chaser of the deer, 80 

In host a hardy mutineer, 

But still the boldest of the crew 

When deed of danger was to do. 

He grieved that day their games cut short. 

And marred the dicer's brawling sport. 

And shouted loud, 'Renew the bowl! 

And, while a merry catch I troll. 

Let each the buxom chorus bear, 

Like brethren of the brand and spear/ 

V 

soldier's song 

Our vicar still preaches that Peter and Poule 90 

Laid a swinging long curse on the bonny brown bowl. 
That there's wrath and despair in the jolly black-jack, 
And the seven deadly sins in a flagon of sack; 
Yet whoop, Barnaby! off with thy liquor! 
Drink upsees out, and a fig for the vicar! 

Our vicar he calls it damnation to sip 

The ripe ruddy dew of a woman's dear lip. 

Says that Beelzebub lurks in her kerchief so sly, 

And Apollyon shoots darts from her merry black eye; 

Yet whoop. Jack! kiss Gillian the quicker, 100 

Till she bloom like a rose, and a fig for the vicar! 

Our vicar thus preaches, — and why should he not? 
For the dues of his cure are the placket and pot; 



Canto VI. j The Guard-Foom 139 

And 'tis right of his office poor laymen to lurch 
Who infringe the domains of our good Mother Church. 
Yet whoop, bully-boys! off with your liquor! 
Sweet Marjorie's the word, and a fig for the vicar! 



VI 

The warder's challenge, heard without, 

Stayed in mid-roar the merry shout. 

A soldier to the portal went, — no 

^Here is old Bertram, sirs, of Ghent; 

And — beat for jubilee the drum! — 

A maid and minstrel with him come.' 

Bertram, a Fleming, gray and scarred, 

Was entering now the Court of Guard, 

A harper with him, and, in plaid 

All muffled close, a mountain maid. 

Who backward shrunk to 'scape the view 

Of the loose scene and boisterous crew. 

'What news?' they roared. — 'I only know, 120 

From noon till eve we fought with foe 

As wild and as untamable 

As ithe rude mountains where they dwell; 

On both sides store of blood is lost. 

Nor much success can either boast.' — 

'But whence thy captives, friend? Such spoil 

As theirs must needs reward thy toil. 

Old dost thou wax, and wars grow sharp; 

Thou now hast glee-maiden and harp! 

Get thee an ape, and trudge the land, 130 

The leader of a juggler band.' 



vn 



'No, comrade; — no such fortune mine. 
After the fight these sought our line, 



140 The Lady of the Lake [Canto vi. 

That aged harper and the girl, 

And, having audience of the Earl, 

Mar bade I should purvey them steed, 

And bring them hitherward v^ith speed. 

Forbear your mirth and rude alarm, 

For none shall do them shame or harm.' — 

'Hear ye his boast?' cried John of Brent, 140 

Ever to strife and jangling bent; 

'Shall he strike doe beside our lodge. 

And yet the jealous niggard grudge 

To pay the forester his fee? 

I'll have my share howe'er it be. 

Despite of Moray, Mar, or thee.' 

Bertram his forward step v^ithstood; 

And, burning in his vengeful mood. 

Old Allan, though unfit for strife, 

Laid hand upon his dagger-knife; 150 

But Ellen boldly stepped between, 

And dropped at once the tartan screen: 

So, from his morning cloud, appears 

The sun of May through summer tears. 

The savage soldiery, aoiazed. 

As on descended angel gazed; 

Even hardy Brent, abashed and tamed, 

Stood half admiring, half ashamed. 



vin 



Boldly she spoke: 'Soldiers, attend! 

My father was the soldier's friend, 160 

Cheered him in camps, in marches led, 

And with him in the battle bled. 

Not from the valiant or the strong 

Should exile's daughter suffer wrong.' 

Answered De Brent, most forward still 

In every feat or good or ill: 



Canto VI. i The Guard-rooiTi 141 

^I shame me of the part I played; 

And thou an outlaw's child, poor maid! 

An outlaw I by forest laws, 

And merry Needwood knows the cause. 170 

Poor Rose, — if Rose be living now,' — 

He wiped his iron eye and brow, — 

^Must bear such age, I think, as thou. — 

Hear ye, my mates! I go to call 

The Captain of our watch to hall. 

There lies my halberd on the floor; 

And he that steps my halberd o'er, 

To do the maid injurious part. 

My shaft shall quiver in his heart! 

Beware loose speech, or jesting rough; 180 

Ye all know John de Brent. Enough.' 



IX 



Their Captain came, a gallant young, — 

Of Tullibardine's house he sprung, — 

Nor wore he yet the spurs of knight; 

Gay was his mien, his humor light. 

And, though by courtesy controlled, 

Forward his speech, his bearing bold. 

The high-born maiden ill could brook 

The scanning of his curious look 

And dauntless eye; — and yet, in sooth, 190 

Young Lewis -was a generous youth; 

But Ellen's lovely face and mien, 

111 suited to the garb and scene. 

Might lightly bear construction strange. 

And give loose fancy scope to range. 

Welcome to Stirling towers, fair maid! 

Come ye to seek a champion's aid. 

On palfrey white, with harper hoar. 

Like errant damosel of yore? 



142 The Lady of the Lake icanto vi. 

Does thy high quest a knight require, 200 

Or may the venture suit a squire?' 

Her dark eye flashed; — she paused and sighed: — 

^O what have I to do with pride! — 

Through scenes of sorrow, shame, and strife, 

A suppHant for a father's life, 

I crave an audience of the King. 

Behold, to back my suit, a ring, 

The royal pledge of grateful claims. 

Given by the Monarch to Fitz- James/ 



The signet-ring young Lewis took 210 

With deep respect and altered look, 

And said: 'This ring our duties own; 

And pardon, if to worth unknown. 

In semblance mean obscurely veiled. 

Lady, in aught my folly faiied. 

Soon as the day flings wide his gates. 

The King shall know what suitor waits. 

Please you meanwhile in fitting bower 

Repose you till his waking hour; 

Female attendance shall obey 220 

Your hest, for service or array. 

Permit I marshal you the way.' 

But, ere she followed, with the grace 

And open bounty of her race, . 

She bade her slender purse be shared 

Among the soldiers of the guard. 

The rest with thanks their guerdon took. 

But Brent, with shy and awkward look. 

On the reluctant maiden's hold 

Forced bluntly back the proffered gold: — 230 

Torgive a haughty English heart, 

And O, forget its ruder part! 



Canto VI. J The Guard-room 143 

The vacant purse shall be my share, 
Which in my barret-cap I'll bear, 
Perchance, in jeopardy of war. 
Where gayer crests may keep afar.' 
With thanks — 'twas all she could — the maid 
His rugged courtesy repaid. 



XI 



When Ellen forth with Lewis went, 

Allan made suit to John of Brent: — 240 

*My lady safe, O let your grace 

Give me to see my master's face! 

His minstrel I, — to share his doom 

Bound from the cradle to the tomb. 

Tenth in descent, since first my sires 

Waked for his noble house their lyres, 

Nor one of all the race was known 

But prized its weal above their own. 

With the Chief's birth begins our care; 

Our harp must soothe the infant heir, 250 

Teach the youth tales of fight, and grace 

His earliest feat of field or chase; 

In peace, in war, our rank we keep, 

We cheer his board, we soothe his sleep, 

Nor leave him till we pour our verse — 

A doleful tribute! — o'er his hearse. 

Then let me share his captive lot; 

It is my right, — deny it not!' 

'Little we reck,' said John of Brent, 

We Southern men, of long descent; 260 

Nor wot we how a name — a word — 

Makes clansmen vassals to a lord; 

Yet kind my noble landlord's part, — ■ 

God bless the house of Beaudesert! 

And, but I loved to drive the deer 



144 The Lady of the Lake [Canto vi. 

More than to guide the laboring steer, 
I had not dwelt an outcast here. 
Come, good old Minstrel, follow me; 
Thy Lord and Chieftain shalt thou see.' 

XII 

Then, from a rusted iron hook, ' 270 

A bunch of ponderous keys he took, 

Lighted a torch, and Allan led 

Through grated arch and passage dread. 

Portals they passed, where, deep within. 

Spoke prisoner's moan and fetters' din; 

Through rugged vaults, where, loosely stored, 

Lay wheel, and axe, and headsman's sword, 

And many a hideous engine grim, 

For wTenching joint and crushing limb. 

By artists formed who deemed it shame 280 

And sin to give their work a name. 

They halted at a low-browed porch. 

And Brent to Allan gave the torch, 

While bolt and chain he backward rolled, 

And made the bar unhasp its hold. 

They entered; — 'twas a prison-room 

Of stern security and gloom, 

Yet not a dungeon; for the day 

Through lofty gratings found its way. 

And rude and antique garniture 290 

Decked the sad walls and oaken floor. 

Such as the rugged days of old 

Deemed fit for captive noble's hold. 

^Here,' said De Brent, ^thou mayst remain 

Till the Leech visit him again. 

Strict is his charge, the warders tell. 

To tend the noble prisoner well.' 

Retiring then the bolt he drew. 

And the lock's murmurs growled anew. 



VI.] The Guard-room 145 

Roused at the sound, from lowly bed 300 

A captive feebly raised his head; 

The wondering Minstrel looked, and knew — 

Not his dear lord, but Roderick Dhu! 

For, come from where Clan-Alpine fought, 

They, erring, deemed the Chief he sought. 

XIII 

As the tall ship, whose lofty prore 

Shall never stem the billows more, 

Deserted by her gallant band. 

Amid the breakers lies astrand, 

So on his couch lay Roderick Dhu! 310 

And oft his fevered limbs he threw 

In toss abrupt, as when her sides 

Lie rocking in the advancing tides. 

That shake her frame with ceaseless beat, 

Yet cannot heave her from her seat; — 

O, how unlike her course at sea! 

Or his free step on hill and lea! 

Soon as the Minstrel he could scan, — 

'What of thy lady? — of my clan? — 

My mother? — Douglas? — tell me all! 320 

Have they been ruined in my fall ? 

Ah, yes! or wherefore art thou here? 

Yet speak, — speak boldly, — do not fear.' — 

For Allan, who his mood well knew, 

Was choked with grief and terror too. — 

Who fought? — who fled? — Old man, be brief; — 

Some might, — for they had lost their Chief. 

Who basely live? — who bravely died?' 

'O, calm thee. Chief!' the Minstrel cried, 

'Ellen is safe!' Tor that thank Heaven!' 330 

'And hopes are for the Douglas given. 

The Lady Margaret, too, is well; 

And, for thy clan, — on field or fell, 



146 The Lady of the Lake [Canto vi. 

Has never harp of minstrel told 
Of combat fought so true and bold. 
Thy stately Pine is yet unbent, 
Though many a goodly bough is rent.' 



XIV 



The Chieftain reared his form on high, 

And fever's fire was in his eye; 

But ghastly, pale, and livid streaks 340 

Checkered his swarthy brow and cheeks. 

^Hark, Minstrel! I have heard thee play, 

With measure bold on festal day. 

In yon lone isle, — again where ne'er 

Shall harper play or warrior hear! — 

That stirring air that peals on high, 

O'er Dermid's race our victory. 

Strike it! — and then, — for well thou canst, — 

Free from thy minstrel-spirit glanced. 

Fling me the picture of the fight, 350 

When met my clan the Saxon might. 

I'll listen, till my fancy hears 

The clang of swords, the crash of spears! 

These grates, these walls, shall vanish then 

For the fair field of fighting men. 

And my free spirit burst away. 

As if it soared from battle fray.' 

The trembling Bard with awe obeyed, — 

Slow on the harp his hand he laid; 

But soon remembrance of the sight 360 

He witnessed from the mountain's height, 

With what old Bertram told at night. 

Awakened the full power of song. 

And bore him in career along; — 

As shallop launched on river's tide. 

That slow and fearful leaves the side, 



Canto VI ] The Guard-room 147 

But, when it feels the middle stream, 
Drives downward swift as lightning's beam. 



XV 
BATTLE or BEAL' AN DUINE 

^The Minstrel came once more to view 
The eastern ridge of Ben venue, 370 

For ere he parted he would say- 
Farewell to lovely Loch Achray — 
Where shall he find, in foreign land, 
So lone a lake, so sweet a strand! — 

There is no breeze upon the fern, 

No ripple on the lake, 
Upon her eyry nods the erne. 

The deer has sought the brake; 
The small birds will not sing aloud, 

The springing trout lies still, 380 

So darkly glooms yon thunder-cloud. 
That swathes, as with a purple shroud, 

Benledi's distant hill. 
Is it the thunder's solemn sound 

That mutters deep and dread. 
Or echoes from the groaning ground 

The warrior's measured tread? 
Is it the lightning's quivering glance 

That on the thicket streams. 
Or do they flash on spear and lance 390 

The sun's retiring beams? — 
I see the dagger-crest of Mar, 
I see the Moray's silver star. 
Wave o'er the cloud of Saxon war. 
That up the lake comes winding far! 
To hero boune for battle-strife. 

Or bard of martial lay, 



148 The Lady of the Lake icanto vi. 

'Twere worth ten years of peaceful life, 
One glance at their array! 



XVI 



'Their light-armed archers far and near 400 

Surveyed the tangled ground, 
Their centre ranks, with pike and spear, 
A twilight forest frowned, 
' Their barded horsemen in the rear 
The stern battalia crowned. 
No cymbal clashed, no clarion rang. 

Still were the pipe and drum; 
Save heavy tread, and armor's clang, 

The sullen march was dumb. 
There breathed no wind their crests to shake, 410 

Or wave their flags abroad; 
Scarce the frail aspen seemed to quake. 

That shadowed o'^er their road. 
Their vaward scouts no tidings bring. 

Can rouse no lurking foe, 
Nor spy a trace of living thing, 

Save when they stirred the roe; 
The host moves like a deep-sea wave 
Where rise no rocks its pride to brave. 

High-swelling, dark and slow. 420 

The lake is passed, and now they gain 
A narrow and a broken plain. 
Before the Trosachs' rugged jaws; 
And here the horse and spearmen pause. 
While, to explore the dangerous glen, 
Dive through the pass the archer-men. 

xvn 

'At once there rose so wild a yell 
Within that dark and narrow dell 



Canto VI.] The Guard-room 149 

As all the fiends from heaven that fell 
Had pealed the banner-cry of hell! 430 

Forth from the pass in tumult driven, 
Like chaff before the wind of heaven, 

The archery appear. 
For life! for life! their flight they ply — 
And shriek, and shout, and battle-cry, 
And plaids and bonnets waving high. 
And broadswords flashing to the sky. 

Are maddening in the rear. 
Onward they drive in dreadful race. 

Pursuers and pursued; 440 

Before that tide of flight and chase, 
How shall it keep its rooted place. 

The spearmen's twilight wood? — 
^'Down, down," cried Mar, ^^your lances down! 

Bear back both friend and foe!" — 
Like reeds before the tempest's frown, 
That serried grove of lances brown 

At once lay levelled low; 
And closely shouldering side to side. 
The bristling ranks the onset bide. — 450 

"We'll quell the savage mountaineer, 

As their tinchel cows the game! 
They come as fleet as forest deer; 

We'll drive them back as tame." 



xvni 

'Bearing before them in their course 

The relics of the archer force. 

Like wave with crest of sparkling foam, 

Right onward did Clan- Alpine come. 
Above the tide, each broadsword bright 
Was brandishing like beam of light, 460 



150 The Lady of the Lake [canto vi. 

Each targe was dark below; 
And with the ocean's mighty swing, 
When heaving to the tempest's wing, 

They hurled them on the foe. 
I heard the lance's shivering crash, 
As when the whirlwind rends the ash; 
I heard the broadsword's deadly clang, 
As if a hundred anvils rang! 
But Moray wheeled his rearward rank 
Of horsemen on Clan-Alpine's flank. — 470 

^^My banner-man, advance! 
I see," he cried, "their column shake. 
Now, gallants! for your ladies^ sake, 

Upon them with the lance!" — 

*The horsemen dashed among the rout 

As deer break through the broom; 
Their steeds are stout, their swords are out. 

They soon make lightsome room. 
Clan-Alpine's best are backward borne. — 

Where, where was Roderick then! 480 

One blast upon his bugle-horn 

Were worth a thousand men. 
And refluent through the pass of fear 

The battle's tide was poured; 
Vanished the Saxon's struggling spear, 

Vanished the mountain-sword. 
As Bracklinn's chasm, so black and steep. 

Receives her roaring linn, 
As the dark caverns of the deep 
i Suck the wild whirlpool in, 490 

^So did the deep and darksome pass 
Devour the battle's mingled mass; 
None linger now upon the plain, 
Save those who ne'er shall fight again. 



Canto vi.j The Guard-rooiii 151 

XIX 

'Now westward rolls the battle's din, 

That deep and doubling pass within. — 

Minstrel, away! the work of fate 

Is bearing on; its issue wait 

Where the rude Trosachs' dread defile 

Opens on Katrine's lake and isle. 500 

Gray Benvenue I soon repassed; 

Loch Katrine lay beneath me cast. 

The sun is set; — the clouds are met, 
The lowering scowl of heaven 

An inky hue of livid blue 
To the deep lake has given; 
Strange gusts of wind from mountain glen 
Swept o'er the lake, then sunk again. 
I heeded not the eddying surge; 

Mine eye but saw the Trosachs' gorge, 510 

Mine ear but heard that sullen sound, 
Which like an earthquake shook the ground. 
And spoke the stern and desperate strife 
That parts not but with parting life, 
Seeming, to minstrel ear, to toll 
The dirge of many a passing soul. 

Nearer it comes — the dim-wood glen 

The martial flood disgorged again, 
But not in mingled tide; 

The plaided warriors of the North 520 

High on the mountain thunder forth 
And overhang its side. 

While by the lake below appears 

The darkening cloud of Saxon spears. 

At weary bay each shattered band. 

Eying their foemen, sternly stand; 

Their banners stream like tattered sail 

That flings its fragments to the gale, 



152 The Lady of the Lake icanto vi. 

And broken arms and disarray 

Marked the fell havoc of the day. 530 

XX 

'Viewing the mountain's ridge askance, 
The Saxons stood in sullen trance, 
Till Moray pointed with his lance, 

And cried: '' Behold yon isle! — 
See! none are left to guard its strand 
But women weak, that wring the hand. 
'Tis there of yore the robber band 

Their booty wont to pile; — 
My purse, with bonnet-pieces store, 
To him will swim a bow-shot o'er, 540 

And loose a shallop from the shore. 
Lightly we'll tame the war-wolf then. 
Lords of his mate, and brood, and den." 
Forth from the ranks a spearman sprung. 
On earth his casque and corselet rung, 

He plunged him in the wave. — 
All saw the deed, — the purpose knew, 
And to their clamors Benvenue 

A mingled echo gave. 
The Saxons shout, their mate to cheer, 550 

The helpless females scream for fear, 
And yells for rage the mountaineer. 
'Twas then, as by the outcry riven. 
Poured down at once the lowering heaven. 
A whirlwind swept Loch Katrine's breast. 
Her billows reared their snowy crest. 
Well for the swimmer swelled they high, 
To mar the Highland marksman's eye; 
For round him showered, mid rain and hail. 
The vengeful arrows of the Gael. 560 

In vain. — He nears the isle — and lo! 
His hand is on a shallop's bow. 



Canto VI. ] The Guard-rooiTi 153 

Just then a flash of lightning came; 

It tinged the waves and strand with flame. 

I marked Duncraggan's widowed dame, 

Behind an oak I saw her stand, 

A naked dirk gleamed in her hand. — 

It darkened, — but amid the moan 

Of waves I heard a dying groan; — 

Another flash! — the spearman floats 570 

A weltering corse beside the boats, 

And the stern matron o'er him stood, 

Her hand and dagger streaming blood. 

XXI 

' "Revenge! revenge!" the Saxons cried; 
The Gaels' exulting shout replied. 
Despite the elemental rage, 
Again they hurried to engage; 
But, ere they closed in desperate fight, 
Bloody with spurring came a knight, 
^ Sprung from his horse, and from a crag 580 

Waved 'twixt the hosts a milk-white flag. 
Clarion and trumpet by his side 
Rung forth a truce-note high and wide, 
While, in the Monarch's name, afar 
A herald's voice forbade the war. 
For Bothwell's lord and Roderick bold 
Were both, he said, in captive hold.' — 
But here the lay made sudden stand; 
The harp escaped the Minstrel's hand! 
Oft had he stolen a glance, to spy 590 

How Roderick brooked his minstrelsy. 
At first, the Chieftain, to the chime. 
With lifted hand kept feeble time; 
That motion ceased, — yet feeling strong 
Varied his look as changed the song; 



154 The Lady of the Lake icanto m. 

At length, no more his deafened ear 

The minstrel melody can hear; 

His face grows sharp, — his hands are clenched, 

As if some pang his heart-strings wrenched; 

Set are his teeth, his fading eye 600 

Is sternly fixed on vacancy; 

Thus, motionless and moanless, drew 

His parting breath stout Roderick Dhu! — 

Old Allan-bane looked on aghast. 

While grim and still his spirit passed; 

But when he saw that life was fled, 

He poured his wailing o'er the dead. 

XXII 
LAMENT 

'And art thou cold and lowly laid. 

Thy foeman's dread, thy people's aid, 

Breadalbane's boast, Clan-Alpine's shade! 610 

For thee shall none a requiem say? — 

For thee, who loved the minstrel's lay, 

For thee, of Bothwell's house the stay, 

The shelter of her exiled line. 

E'en in this prison-house of thine, 

I'll wail for Alpine's honored Pine! 

What groans shall yonder valleys fill! 

What shrieks of grief shall rend yon hill! 

What tears of burning rage shall thrill. 

When mourns thy tribe thy battles done, 620 

Thy fall before the race was won. 

Thy sword ungirt ere set of sun! 

There breathes not clansman of thy line. 

But would have given his life for thine. 

O, woe for Alpine's honored Pine! 



Canto vi] THc Guard-room 155 

'Sad was thy lot on mortal stage! — 
The captive thrush may brook the cage, 
The prisoned eagle dies for rage. 
Brave spirit, do not scorn my strain! 
And, when its notes awake again, 630 

Even she, so long beloved in vain. 
Shall with my harp her voice combine. 
And mix her woe and tears with mine, 
• To wail Clan- Alpine's honored Pine.' 

xxm 

Ellen the while, with bursting heart, 

Remained in lordly bower apart. 

Where played, with many-colored gleams. 

Through storied pane the rising beams. 

In vain on gilded roof they fall. 

And lightened up a tapestried wall, 640 

And for her use a menial train 

A rich collation spread in vain. 

The banquet proud, the chamber gay, 

Scarce drew one curious glance astray; 

Or if she looked, 'twas but to say. 

With better omen dawned the day 

In that lone isle, where waved on high 

The dun- deer's hide for canopy; 

Where oft her noble father shared 

The simple meal her care prepared, 650 

While Lufra, crouching by her side. 

Her station claimed with jealous pride. 

And Douglas, bent on woodland game. 

Spoke of the chase to Malcolm Graeme, 

Whose answer, oft at random made, 

The wandering of his thoughts betrayed. 

Those who such simple joys have known 

Are taught to prize them when they're gone. 



156 The Lady of the Lake [Canto vi. 

But sudden, see, she lifts her head, 

The window seeks with cautious tread. 660 

What distant music has the power 

To win her in this woful hour? 

'Twas from a turret that o'erhung 

Her latticed bower, the strain was sung. 

XXIV 
LAY OF THE IMPRISONED HUNTSMAN 

^My hawk is tired of perch and hood, 

My idle greyhound loathes his food. 

My horse is weary of his stall, 

And I am sick of captive thrall. 

I wish I were as I have been. 

Hunting the hart in forest green, 670 

With bended bow and bloodhound free, 

For that's the life is meet for me. 

I hate to learn the ebb of time 

From yon dull steeple's drowsy chime, 

Or mark it as the sunbeams crawl, 

Inch after inch, along the wall. 

The lark was wont my matins ring. 

The sable rook my vespers sing; 

These towers, although a king's they be, 

Have not a hall of joy for me. 680 

No more at dawning morn I rise. 
And sun myself in Ellen's eyes. 
Drive the fleet deer the forest through. 
And homeward wend with evening dew; 
A blithesome welcome blithely meet. 
And lay my trophies at her feet. 
While fled the eve on wing of glee, — 
That life is lost to love and me!' 



Canto VI.] The Guard-rooiii 157 

XXV 

The heart-sick lay was hardly said, 
The listener had not turned her head, 690 

It trickled still, the starting tear, 
When light a footstep struck her ear. 
And Snowdoun's graceful Knight was near. 
She turned the hastier, lest again 
The prisoner should renew his strain. 
'O welcome, brave Fitz- James!' she said; 
*How may an almost orphan maid 
Pay the deep debt — ' 'O say not so! 
To me no gratitude you owe. 

Not mine, alas! the boon to give, 700 

And bid thy noble father live; 
I can but be thy guide, sweet maid, 
• With Scotland's King thy suit to aid. 
No tyrant he, though ire and pride 
May lay his better mood aside. 
Come, Ellen, come! 'tis more than time; 
He holds his court at morning prime.' 
With beating heart, and bosom wrung, 
As to a brother's arm she clung. 

Gently he dried the falling tear, 710 

And gently whispered hope and cheer; 
Her faltering steps half led, half stayed. 
Through gallery fair and high arcade, 
Till at his touch its wings of pride 
A portal arch unfolded wide. 

XXVI 

Within 'twas brilliant all and light, 

A thronging scene of figures bright; 

It glowed on Ellen's dazzled sight, 

As when the setting sun has given 

Ten thousand hues to summer even, 720 



158 The Lady of the Lake icanto vi. 

And from their tissue fancy frames 

Aerial knights and fairy dames. 

Still by Fitz- James her footing staid; 

A few faint steps she forward made, 

Then slow her drooping head she raised, 

And fearful round the presence gazed; 

For him she sought who owned this state, 

The dreaded Prince whose will was fate! — 

She gazed on many a princely port 

Might well have ruled a royal court; 730 

On many a splendid garb she gazed, — 

Then turned bewildered and amazed. 

For all stood bare; and in the room 

Fitz- James alone wore cap and plume. 

To him each lady's look was lent, 

On him each courtier's eye was bent; 

Midst furs and silks and jewels sheen, 

He stood, in simple Lincoln green, 

The centre of the glittering ring, — 

And Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's King! 740 

XXVII 

As wreath of snow on mountain-breast 

Slides from the rock that gave it rest. 

Poor Ellen glided from her stay, 

And at the Monarch's feet she lay; 

No word her choking voice commands, — 

She showed the ring, — she clasped her hands. 

O, not a moment could he brook, 

The generous Prince, that suppliant look! 

Gently he raised her, — and, the while. 

Checked with a glance the circle's smile; 750 

Graceful, but grave, her brow he kissed, 

And bade her terrors be dismissed. — 

* Yes, fair, the wandering poor Fitz- James 

The fealty of Scotland claims. 



Canto vi] The Guard-room 159 

To him thy woes, thy wishes, bring; 

He will redeem his signet ring. 

Ask naught for Douglas; — yester even, 

His Prince and he have much forgiven; 

Wrong hath he had from slanderous tongue, 

I, from his rebel kinsmen, wrong. 760 

We would not, to the vulgar crowd, 

Yield what they craved with clamor loud; 

Calmly we heard and judged his cause, 

Our council aided and our laws. 

I stanched thy' father's death-feud stern 

With stout De Vaux and gray Glencairn; 

And Bothwell's Lord henceforth we own 

The friend and bulwark of our throne. — 

But, lovely infidel, how now? 

What clouds thy misbelieving brow? 770 

Lord James of Douglas, lend thine aid; 

Thou must confirm this doubting maid.' 

V xxvin 

Then forth the noble Douglas sprung. 

And on his neck his daughter hung. 

The Monarch drank, that happy hour. 

The sweetest, holiest draught of Power, — 

When it can say with godlike voice, 

Arise, sad Virtue, and rejoice! 

Yet would not James the general eye 

On nature's raptures long should pry; 780 

He stepped between — 'Nay, Douglas, nay, 

Steal not my proselyte away! 

The riddle 'tis my right to read, 

That brought this happy chance to speed. 

Yes, Ellen, when disguised I stray 

In life's more low but happier way, 

'Tis under name which veils my power, 

Nor falsely veils, — for Stirling's tower 



i6o The Lady of the Lake [canto vi. 

Of yore the name of Snowdoun claims, 

And Normans call me James Fitz- James. 790 

Thus watch I o'er insulted laws, 

Thus learn to right the injured cause. ^ 

Then, in a tone apart and low, — 

'Ah, little traitress! none must know 

What idle dream, what lighter thought, 

What vanity full dearly bought, 

Joined to thine eye's dark witchcraft, drew 

My spell-bound steps to Benvenue 

In dangerous hour, and all but gave 

Thy Monarch's life to mountain glaive T 800 

Aloud he spoke: 'Thou still dost hold 

That little talisman of gold, 

Pledge of my faith, Fitz- James's ring, — 

What seeks fair Ellen of the King?' 

XXIX 

Full well the conscious maiden guessed 

He probed the weakness of her breast; 

But with that consciousness there came 

A lightening of her fears for Graeme, 

And more she deemed the Monarch's ire 

Kindled 'gainst him who for her sire 810 

Rebellious broadsword boldly drew; 

And, to her generous feeling true. 

She craved the grace of Roderick Dhu. 

'Forbear thy suit; — the King of kings 

Alone can stay life's parting wings. 

I know his heart, I know his hand. 

Have shared his cheer, and proved his brand; — 

My fairest earldom would I give 

To bid Clan-Alpine's Chieftain live I — 

Hast thou no other boon to crave? 820 

No other captive friend to save?' 



Canto vi] The Guard-room i6i 

Blushing, she turned her from the King, 

And to the Douglas gave the ring, 

As if she wished her sire to speak 

The suit that stained her glowing cheek. 

*Nay, then, my pledge has lost its force, 

And stubborn justice holds her course. 

Malcolm, come forth!' — and, at the word, 

Down kneeled the Gramme to Scotland's Lord. 

'For thee, rash youth, no suppliant sues, 830 

From thee may Vengeance claim her dues. 

Who, nurtured underneath our smile. 

Hast paid our care by treacherous wile, 

And sought amid thy faithful clan 

A refuge for an outlawed man, 

Dishonoring thus thy loyal name. — 

Fetters and warder for the Graeme!' 

His chain of gold the King unstrung. 

The links o'er Malcolm's neck he flung, 

Then gently drew the glittering band, 840 

And laid the clasp on Ellen's hand. 



Harp of the North, farewell! The hills grow dark. 

On purple peaks a deeper shade descending; 
In twilight copse the glow-worm lights her spark. 

The deer, half seen, are to the covert wending. 
Resume thy wizard elm! the fountain lending. 

And the wild breeze, thy wilder minstrelsy; 
Thy numbers sweet with nature's vespers blending, 

With distant echo from the fold and lea, 
And herd-boy's evening pipe, and hum of housing bee. 

Yet, once again, farewell, thou Minstrel Harp! 851 

Yet, once again, forgive my feeble. sway. 
And little reck I of the censure sharp 

May idly cavil at an idle lay. 



1 62 The Lady of the Lake [canto vi. 

Much have I owed thy strains on life's long way, 
Through secret woes the world has never known, 

When on the weary night dawned wearier day, 
And bitterer was the grief devoured alone. — 

That I o'erlive such woes, Enchantress! is thine own. 

Hark! as my lingering footsteps slow retire, 860 

Some Spirit of the Air has waked thy string! 
'Tis now a seraph bold, with touch of fire, 

'Tis now the brush of Fairy's frolic wing. 
Receding now, the dying numbers ring 

Fainter and fainter down the rugged dell; 
And now the mountain breezes scarcely bring 

A wandering witch-note of the distant spell — 
And now, 'tis silent all! — Enchantress, fare thee well! 



NOTES AND COMMENT 



NOTES AND COMMENT 

Canto I 

Harp of the North. The English have always been a story-loving 
people. Before they came to England, while they were living in 
what is now Holland and Denmark, there were among them men 
who composed long poems telling the brave deeds of half-mythical 
heroes and chanted them to the accompaniment of the harp. Some 
of these harpists lived at the courts of tribal chieftains or petty kings; 
others wandered from place to place, welcomed and rewarded wher- 
ever they went. All through the Middle Ages, and even later, we 
hear of these minstrels not only in England but elsewhere in Europe. 
Their history is most interesting, and toward the last most pathetic; 
for other forms of entertainment crowded in with advancing civili- 
zation, and other kinds of poetry, written for the eye rather than 
for the ear, became popular. The wandering minstrel is no longer 
seen, though we think of him, perhaps, when we listen to the street 
singer or even the hand-organ grinder. The old lays are forgotten, 
many of them, though not a few are preserved in such collections as 
Percy^s Reliques of Ancient Poetry, which Scott read with eagerness 
and all but committed to memory when a schoolboy, and Scott's 
own Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border. 

In the first three stanzas, which serve as introduction to the entire 
poem, the author expresses regret that the minstrel has entirely 
disappeared even from Scotland, where he was last to be found, 
and announces that the poem which follows is patterned after the 
gleeman's song of long ago — an attempt to revive interest in this 
old form of poetry. He personifies Scottish minstrelsy, addressing 
it as Harp of the North, at the same time presenting to the reader's 
imagination a fanciful picture of a real harp hanging on a witch-elm 

i6s 



1 66 Notes and Comment [Cantoi. 

near St. Fillan's spring, as if left there years ago by the last of 
the minstrels. Why this particular spot is chosen we can but guess; 
perhaps because the place is one of natural beauty in the heart of a 
region romantic in history and legend. St. Fillan is said to have 
been the favorite saint of Robert Bruce, whose deeds furnish ap- 
propriate material for the minstrel's art, as one may see by reading 
Lord of the Isles. Following this pathetic picture is one in marked 
contrast, of the olden days in Caledon (the Roman name for Scotland) 
when the harper was in his glory, welcomed at every castle and 
delighting hall and bower with his songs of ' 'knighthood's dauntless 
deed and beauty's matchless eye." 

31. Glenartney. Scott's poems may be read with appreciation 
and enjoyment even though the reader does not know the precise 
location of every place mentioned; it is even possible that some- 
thing may be lost by too close a study of the story's geography. A 
map has been furnished, however, to this edition, on which most of 
the places mentioned can be found. Bonnie Scotland by A. R. Hope 
Moncrieff (Scribners), beautifully illustrated in colors, gives an ad- 
mirable idea of the entire region. If this inexpensive volume is not 
available, the reader will find his imagination aided by keeping in 
mind the following terms often found combined in geographical 
names: — 

aber : a mouth or confluence glen : a secluded and narrow val- 

beal: a narrow pass ley 

ben: a mountain, hill, or peak inch: an island 
brae : the brow or side of a hill links : the ground bordering a 
brig: a bridge winding stream 

craig: a crag or rock linn: a waterfall, a precipice, or 

down: a hill a ravine 

dun: a small hill mead: a meadow 

ford : a shallow crossing strath : a river valley of some size 

51. Copse. This is an unusual word, and there are many such 
in the poem. While the story can in large measure be understood 
without a knowledge of the meaning of every term, it cannot be 
fully enjoyed without frequent reference to the dictionary. Here is 
an excellent opportunity for the young reader to enlarge his vocabu- 



Canto I] Notcs and Comment 167 

lary, particularly as regards poetical expressions. Such terms may 
not be needed for every-day use; they are necessary, however, to 
one who wishes to read intelligently. 

66. Cairn. The dictionary defines cairn as a mound or heap 
of stones, used as a memorial. But poets often employ words in 
unusual ways. Perhaps Scott wished to suggest a crag used as a 
lookout. If so, why did he not use crag instead of cairn? 

84. Shrewdly: severely. 

108. For twice that day, etc. If the stag swam the river twice, 
on which side must he be? Is this one of Scott's slips? 

127. Quarry: a technical term applied to the animal hunted. 

138. Whinyard: a short sword. 

145. Trosachs {now MsxidiWy s^&W&dTrossachs). The name means 
bristling country. It is a wooded valley lying between Loch Katrine 
and Loch Achray. Although a wild region in Scott's time, and 
romantic even to-day, the tourist finds a good road winding through 
it now, and on the shore of Achray a castle-like hotel. Another 
hotel is found on the west shore of Loch Katrine, near the upper 
end. Travel between the two hotels is by coach and steamer, a de- 
lightful trip taken by thousands every summer, who go from Edin- 
burgh to Glasgow by way of Loch Katrine and Loch Lomond. 
The journey from city tC' city takes but one or two days. 

196. Huge as the tower: that is, the Tower of Babel. See Genesis 
xi, 1-9. 

202. Pagod: pagoda. 

213. Each plant or flower. In some respects Scott is a careless 
writer, but the nature descriptions found in his poems are, as a rule, 
carefully done. He had a good eye for little things as well as for 
large, and a wonderful memory which preserved what he saw and 
liked. No doubt all the flowers and trees mentioned in this descrip- 
tion were actually seen by the poet, and possibly jotted down in 
his note-book; they are not the product of his imagination. 

274. Wilderlng: bewildering. 

285. Cloister: monastery or convent. 

302. Beshrew : a polite equivalent for plague take. Shrew is de- 
rived from an Anglo-Saxon word meaning a biter. 



1 68 Notes and Comment [Cantoi. 

313. Highland plunderers. "The clans who inhabited the ro- 
mantic regions in the neighborhood of Loch Katrine," writes Scott, 
"were, even until a late period, much addicted to predatory [i.e., 
pillaging and plundering] excursions upon their Lowland neighbors." 

344. A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace. The Naiads, in Greek 
mythology, are nymphs of fountains, lakes, and rivers; Dryads are 
nymphs of the woodlands, and Oreads nymphs of the mountains. 
The three Graces, attendants of Venus, characterize grace, beauty, 
and joy. Their names are Euphrosyne, Aglaia, and Thalia. 

363. Snood: a hair ribbon worn by Scottish maidens. 

438. A couch was pulled. The couch, the reader readily guesses, 
was of fragrant, purple heather. 

443. Rood: a cross or crucifix. 

458. Old Allan-bane foretold. Here and elsewhere in the poem 
we are shown the superstitions of the Highlanders, superstitions 
which do not seem out of place in poetry, though they have long 
since been swept away. They fascinated Scott the antiquary, much 
as ghost tales fascinate young and old to-day. In his notes to this 
poem Scott mentions a number of once highly respected authors 
whose writings reveal unquestioning belief in powers such as Allan- 
bane is given. 

475. Errant-knight: a knight-errant, or one traveling in search 
of adventure, happiest, perhaps, when rescuing maidens in distress 
by doing deeds of high daring — fronting "each high emprise." 

476. Sooth: trustworthy. 

546. Target: a shield. "A round target of light wood, covered 
with strong leather and studded with brass or iron, was a necessary 
part of a Highlander's equipment." (Scott) 

573. Ferragus or Ascabart: giants who figure in mediaeval ro- 
mances, one forty feet high, the other but thirty. 

580. Though more than kindred knew. Evidently Scott means 
that Ellen's love for Margaret was that of a daughter for a mother. 
Later we learn that Margaret is Ellen's aunt, her mother's 
sister. 

596. Wot: knows. 

638. Pibroch: bagpipe. 



Canto I.J Notcs and Comment 169 

657. Reveille: the morning signal, by drum or bugle, for soldiers 
to get up. 

731. Douglas. To explain at this point who the Douglases were, 
why the Knight of Snowdoun was so often reminded of them, and 
why they were a banished race would rob the reader of the pleasure 
of discovery. It is sufficient to know that they were a numerous and 
powerful clan, out of favor with the king. 

738. Orisons: prayers. 

Questions and Topics for Study 

1. Explain as many of the following words as you can without 
referring to the dictionary: verdant, sylvan, martial, boon, tapestry, 
■filial, lair, covert, cairn, copse, whinyard, target, snood, reveille', gaunt- 
let, orisons. 2. Would the story have been as effective had 
Fitz- James met Ellen while taking a long tramp through the Tros- 
sachs? 3. Why does Scott make the chase so furious, all the hunters, 
save one, outdistanced by the stag? 4. Why does he have the stag 
escape, the horse die? 5. Is the description of the Trossachs and 
Loch Katrine so carefully done that you can make a simple topical 
plan of it? 6. Would the story have been as effective had it begun 
with a description of the region? 7. Why did Scott delay describing 
the personal appearance of the hunter till the meeting with Ellen? 
8. What hints are thrown out that Ellen is of noble birth? that she 
has a lover? 9. How do you explain the mystery concerning the 
invisible harp that played as Ellen sang? 10. What questions con- 
cerning the rest of the story are in the reader's mind as he finishes 
the canto — questions that lead him to read on? 11. In the third 
stanza, how many words can you discover that were chosen, evi- 
dently, because their sound suggests the spirited scene described? 
12. How many of the lines in this stanza begin with a stressed or 
accented syllable? 13. Note how quiet the concluding lines of the 
stanza are when compared with the first. Are there certain letters 
which have a hush sound ? 14. What in the canto have you enjoyed 
most? 15. Memorize the fourteenth stanza, or some other that you 
like better. 



1 70 Notes and Comment [Cantoii. 

Canto II 

3. Matin: morning. 

29. Plaided. The plaid is a rectangular woolen garment, cross- 
barred with different colors, formerly worn by Scottish Highlanders. 

109. The Graeme. Scott explains in a note that the Graemes, or 
Grahams, were an old and powerful family which held extensive 
possessions in the counties of Dunbarton and Stirling. 

112. Hall and bower. Hall, in mediaeval times, was the name 
applied to the main living room; the bower was an apartment for 
women. 

131. Saint Modan: a Scotch abbot of early times. Why Scott 
chose this particular saint, it is hard to tell; perhaps he thought one 
abbot as good as another, since many of them played the harp, and 
one. Saint Dunstan, had a harp which once played an anthem, 
''without anie man's helpe." 

165. In native virtue great. Ellen's father's character is so noble 
that banishment and loss of fortune cannot cast him down. He is 
like the oak whi-^h bends before (gives) the wind, but does not break. 

200. The Lady of the Bleeding Heart. Since the bleeding heart 
was the emblem of the Douglases, the reader now knows beyond 
doubt that the Lady of the Lake is a Douglas. Later we learn that 
the emblem of Clan- Alpine was a pine-tree. 

206. Strathspey: a Highland dance. 

216. A Lennox foray. A foray was a pillaging expedition, com- 
mon enough in the days of which Scott writes. It often meant the 
burning of buildings and crops and the "lifting" of cattle. What 
little excuse can be offered for such expeditions is given by Roderick 
himself in a later canto. The Lennox country borders the lower end 
of Loch Lomond. 

221. Holy-Rood: the royal palace in Edinburgh. The incident 
reminds us that in Scotland early times were rough times. 

236. Dispensation. Since Ellen Douglas and Roderick Dhu were 
cousins, they could not marry without special permission — dispen- 
sation — from the pope. 

260. Maronnan's cell. In Kilmaronoch, a small place near the 



Canto II.] Notcs and Comment 171 

eastern extremity of Loch Lomond, there was a cell, or chapel, 
dedicated to St. Maronnan. Later, the place contained a nun- 
nery. Rather than marry Roderick, Ellen will become a nun. 

270. Bracklinn's thundering wave. Bracklinn is a waterfall near 
Callendar. 

306. For Tine-man forged. Scott's note explains that Tine-man 
was a nickname applied to an Earl of Douglas prominent in four- 
teenth century warfare, because he lined, or lost, so many followers. 
The story of how Tine-man allied himself with Hotspur in rebellion 
against Henry IV of England has been told by Shakespeare in his 
play Henry IV. It was not uncommon, in early times, to attribute 
magic powers to the swords of great chieftains. 

319. Beltane game: a springtime festival, partly religious, though 
an occasion for merrymaking. 

343. Tartans: woolen plaids, formerly much worn in Scotland. 

392. The burden bore. The- rowers sang the chorus, keeping time 
with their oars. 

405. Bourgeon: put forth buds. 

408. Roderick Vich Alpine dhu. Dhu means black. "The line 
of the text therefore signifies. Black Roderick, the descendant of 
Alpine." (Scott) 

497. Percy's Norman pennon. This was captured by Douglas 
in the raid which led to the battle of Otterburn in Northumberland, 
in the year 1388. It was taken in a small skirmish, and the Percy 
(Hotspur) vowed, in reply to his enemy's taunts, that he should 
not carry it beyond the border. Douglas bade him come and take 
it; it should be planted before his tent. The Scotch intrenched 
themselves at Otterburn. They might have got off clear with their 
booty; but it was a point of chivalry to give Percy a fair chance of 
recovering his pennon. Hotspur hurried after them without wait- 
ing for reinforcements, which were coming up, and attacked the 
Scots on a moonlight night Cthe 19th of August). The Scots held 
their own, though Douglas was mortally wounded, and Hotspur and 
his brother, with many others, were taken prisoners. The battle 
and the victory were perfectly useless; it was really a tourney, when 
men fought for mere fighting's sake. The memory of the raid is 



172 Notes and Comment [Cantoii. 

preserved in the various ballads of Chevy Chase (a corruption of 
chevauchee, a ''riding raid"). (Taylor) 

506. Blantyre priory was near Bothwell Castle. 

583. Strath-Endrick : south-east of Loch Lomond. 

615. The King's vindictive pride. "In 1529, James made a con- 
vention at Edinburgh, for the purpose of considering the best mode 
of quelling the Border robbers, who, during the license of his minority, 
and the troubles which followed, had committed many exorbitances. 
Accordingly he assembled a flying army of ten thousand men, con- 
sisting of his principal nobility and their followers, who were directed 
to bring their hawks and dogs with them, that the monarch might 
refresh himself with sport during the intervals of military execution 
With this array he swept through Ettrick Eorest, where he hanged 
over the gate of his own castle Piers Cockburn of Henderland, who 
had prepared, according to tradition, a feast for his reception. He 
caused Adam Scott of Tushielaw also to be executed, who was dis- 
tinguished by the title of King of the Border. But the most noted 
victim of justice during that expedition was John Armstrong of 
Gilnockie, famous in Scottish song, who, confiding in his own sup- 
posed innocence, met the King, with a retinue of thirty-six persons, 
all of whom were hanged at Carlenrig, near the source of the Teviot. 
The effect of this severity was such that, as the vulgar expressed it, 
'the rush-bush kept the cow, and thereafter was great peace and 
rest a long time, wherethrough the King had great profit; for he 
had ten thousand sheep going in Ettrick Forest in keeping by Andrew 
Bell, who made the King as good count of them as they had gone in 
the bounds of Fife.'' (Scott) 

708. Astound: astounded. 

747. Nighted: benighted. 

805. Nor lackey with hir freebom clan. Roderick means that he 
will not attempt to win the iring's favor by becoming a servile follower. 

809. Henchman. Perhaps we should call him Roderick's "right- 
hand man," a faithful follower always in attendance. 

Questions and Topics for Study 
1. Give synonyms for as many of the following w^ords as you can: 



Canto III.] Notcs and Comment 173 

hlithej bootless^ sable, guerdon, lackey, spleen, churlish, pibroch, foray, 
marauding, vindictive. 2. Why does Scott introduce the scene 
between Ellen and Allan-bane? Is it really needed? 3. Why is 
Fitz- James brought to the Isle during the chieftain's absence? 
4. Compare the way in which Roderick is brought into the story 
with the way in which Fitz- James is brought in. Which is the 
more effective ? 5. What is gained by having Douglas and Roderick 
return at the same time? 6. Explain clearly (a) what claim Rod- 
erick has on Ellen's affections, (b) why she does not wish to marry 
him, (c) why an attack from the royal forces is feared. 7. How 
many rival lovers can you discover? 8. What is best in this canto, 
the return of Roderick, the return of Douglas, or the quarrel scene ? 
9. Is Canto II in any respects better than Canto I? 10. Contrast 
the endings of the two. 11. What new questions arise in the reader's 
mind as the canto closes? 12. It has been noted that in the third 
stanza of Canto I the sound suggests the sense. In the Boat Song 
there is a successful attempt to indicate the measured swing of the 
rowers. Read it aloud, stressing the syllables in such a way as to 
indicate the stroke of the oars. 13. Memorize the Boat Song. 
14. Write four short paragraphs, using the following as topical sen- 
tences: (a) The return of Roderick is in marked contrast to the return 
of Douglas, (b) The tune played by the bagpipers, properly under- 
stood, tells a thrilling story, (c) The three songs found in the first 
two cantos differ widely in character, (d) Ellen's position is most 
trying. 

Canto III 

62. Rowan: mountain ash. 

65. Brian the Hermit. This uncanny character is not entirely 
Scott's invention, but derived from a legend. In early, superstitious 
times, such priestlike characters were found among the Scots who 
lived somewhat remote from civilization. The poet tries to show, 
by sketching Brian's solitary life, how a hermit might become half- 
crazed, might in time come to believe that he possessed unusual 
powers, and eventually be accepted by his clan as a priest — resembling 
more the Druid than the Christian minister. The Druids were 
priests among the ancient Celts. They worshiped in forests, re- 



174 Notes and Comment icanto in. 

garded oak and mistletoe as sacred, and offered human sacrifices. 
Brian's gruesome life-story is pathetic; the one gleam which relieves 
its gloom is the hermit's love for his clan. 

138. Sable-lettered. Old English manuscripts were written in 
what is called black letter or old English. A specimen may be found 
in a good dictionary. 

142. Cabala: a mystical interpretation of the Scriptures. 

154. The River Demon. "The River Demon, or River-horse, for 
it is that form which he commonly assumes, is the Kelpy of the 
Lowlands, an evil and malicious spirit, delighting to forebode and 
to witness calamity. He frequents most Highland lakes and rivers; 
and one of his most memorable exploits was performed upon the banks 
of Loch Vennachar, in the very district which forms the scene of 
our action. It consisted in the destruction of a funeral procession, 
with all its attendants. The "noontide hag," called in Gaelic Glas- 
Hch, a tall, emaciated, female figure, is supposed in particular to 
haunt the district of Knoidart. A goblin dressed in antique armor, 
and having one hand covered with blood, called, from that circum- 
stance, Lham-dearg, or Red-hand, is a tenant of the forests of Glen- 
more and Rothiemurcus. Other spirits of the desert, all frightful 
in shape and malignant in disposition, are believed to frequent 
different mountains and glens of the Highlands, where any unusual 
appearance, produced by mist, or the strange lights that are some- 
times thrown upon particular objects, never fails to present an ap- 
parition to the imagination of the solitary and melancholy moun- 
taineer." (Scott) 

168. The fatal Ben-Shie's boding scream. This spirit 
takes the form of an old woman, Scott tells us, with a blue 
mantle and streaming hair. Her scream boded or foretold disaster. 

171. Shingly: covered with coarse pebbles. 

189. A cubitus length. A cubit was originally the length of 
the forearm. 

191. Inch-Cailliach : an island in the lower part of Loch 
Lomond, containing the clan burying-ground. 

297. Three fathom wide. Is such a leap possible from the 
prow of a moving boat? 



Canto III] Notcs and Comment 175 

310. Scaur: cliff. 

369. Coronach: a funeral wail or song of lament. 

386. Correi: a hollow or recess in the side of a hill or at the 
head of a valley. 

387. Cumber: time of trouble. 

485. Coif-clad. Upon marrying, the maiden put aside the 
snood and adopted the coif. 

546. Bracken: brakes or large ferns. 

713. Ave Maria! Hail, Mary! This is the beginning of 
the Catholic prayer addressed to Mary, the mother of Christ. 

Questions and Topics for Study 

1. Explain the following: patriarch, anathema, coronach, ren- 
dezvous, murky, sepulchral, mien, augured, satyr, chalice. 2. 
Explain lines 135-144, 161-2, 465. 3. Reproduce on the black- 
board the map found on another page and indicate, with red 
crayon, the course of the fiery cross. 4. What do you 
find to like in lines 91-110? 5. If you were preparing an 
illustrated edition of the poem, what eight scenes should 
you like to have pictured to go with Canto III? 6. If the 
canto were to be represented by tableaux, what scenes should 
you choose? 7. Of all the scenes in the canto, which stands 
out most vividly? 8. Show that the two songs differ from 
those in the earlier cantos. 9. Why does Scott introduce the 
funeral and wedding scenes? 10. Scott uses a great many 
figures of comparison, — simile, metaphor, and personification. 
A simile is a completely expressed comparison, a metaphor an 
implied or incompletely expressed comparison, a personification 
a metaphor in which something not human — a lower animal, 
an object, or an attribute — is spoken of as if it were human. Find 
three or four examples of each. 11. What do you like best in 
this canto? 12. Which of the first three cantos is best? 13. 
Which do you prefer, the quiet descriptions or the spirited 
actions like the hunt, the quarrel, and the progress of the fiery 
cross? 14. Memorize the thirteenth stanza. 



176 Notes and Comment [canto iv. 

Canto IV 

5. Wilding: wild. 

36. Boune: prepared. 

42. Inured bout: accustomed to endure such trying 

turns of fortune. 

73. Kerns: light-armed fighters, usually equipped with but 
bow and arrow. The heavy-armed soldiers were called gallow- 
glasses. 

82. Boss: projection, or knob. 

98. Broke: cut up. Scott's note is as follows: "Everything 
belonging to the chase was matter of solemnity among our 
ancestors; but nothing was more so than the mode of cutting 
up, or, as it was technically called, breaking, the slaughtered 
stag. The forester had his allotted portion; the hounds had a 
certain allowance; and to make the division as general as pos- 
sible, the very birds had their share also. 'There is a little 
gristle,' says Turbervile, 'which is upon the spoone of the bris- 
kit, which we call the raven's bone; and I have seen in some 
places a raven so wont and accustomed to it that she would 
never fail to croak and cry for it all the time you were in breaking 
up of the deer, and would not depart till she had it.' " 

150. Glaive: sword. 

152. Silver star. Just as the pine-tree was Roderick's symbol, 
so the silver star appeared on Moray's banner. A pale (line 153) 
was *'a broad perpendicular stripe in an escutcheon." 

160. Earn. Loch Earn does not show in our map. It is a 
little north of Ben Voirlich. 

174. Stance: foundation. 

223. Trowed: believed. 

231. Cambus-kenneth's fane: an abbey about a mile east of 
Stirling. Fane is another word for temple or sanctuary. 

261. Alice Brand. Scott found the plot for this little ballad 
in an old collection of Danish songs. 

262. Mavis and merle: thrush and blackbird. 

267. Wold: open country, as opposed to the woods. 

277. Pall: fine material for cloaks such as the nobility wore. 



Canto IV.] Notcs and Comment 1 77 

What does the word mean now, and how did the change in 
meaning come about? 

283. Darkling: in the dark. 

285. Vair: a kind of fur worn by the well-to-do. The russet 
gray was the home-spun worn by country people. 

298. Woned: dwelt. 

306. Fairies' fatal green. The elves wore green; therefore 
they were irritated when they saw mortals wearing the green 
costume so common among hunters. 

308. Wert christened man. In a note Scott explains that 
the elves envied mortals who had been christened, believing 
them to be superior. When a ''christened man" fell into their 
power, they gave him "a certain precedence." 

330. Kindly blood: the blood of one of the kin. 

357. Wist: knew. 

387. Bourne: boundary 

392. Scathe: harm. 

419. That fatal bait. Ellen means that by showing her 
pleasure when, on his earlier visit, the knight flattered her with 
courtly compliments, she had given sufficient encouragement to 
lure him back again. 

446. As death: as if death. 

471. Lordship: lands. 

473. Reck of : care for. 

506. Weeds: an old word meaning garments. Is the word 
ever used now for garments? 

531. Allan. The Allan and the Devan are two small branches 
joining the Forth near Stirling. 

590. The toils are pitched. The hidden meaning in the song is 
easily guessed. The hunters, referred to later as the chase, are 
Clan Alpine; the stag of ten — that is, a stag with ten-pointed 
antlers, an unusually large number — is Fitz- James, for whom 
the net is set (toils are pitched); the wounded doe is 
Blanche. 

657. Shred: cut. 

672, Wreak: avenge. 



lyS Notes and Comment [Cantov. 

722. The summer solstice. The meaning is that even in 
summer the nights are cold in the Highlands. 

772. A mighty augury is laid. This refers to the Taghairm 
prophecy. 

788. Thy warrant is thy sword. Beyond the ford, the knight 
must depend not upon Highland guide but upon his sword. 

Questions and Topics for Study 

1. Explain: scatheless^ boss, auspicious, houne, rife, appre- 
hensive, boon, woned, pall and vair, wood and wold, weeds. 2. 
Make clear the meaning of lines 102-4, 468-71, 743-48. 3. The 
boat which bears Ellen and Fitz- James to the Isle is also called 
skiff, shallop, and barge. Do you recall any of Scott's favorite 
substitutes for the word sword? Why does he employ synonyms 
so freely? 4. Which is the more gruesome, the taghairm cere- 
mony or the preparation of the fiery cross? 5. The conversa- 
tion between Ellen and the minstrel in the second canto serves 
to explain the situation; what is learned from their conversa- 
tion in the fourth canto ? 6; What was Scott's purpose in bring- 
ing in Blanche of Devan? 7. What do you find to like in stanzas 
xxix-xxxi? This is a good passage to memorize. 8. What 
is the most dramatic scene in the canto? 9. Which canto thus 
far has the best ending? 10. Write brief paragraphs, beginning 
with the following sentences: (a) Allan-bane possesses a wonder- 
ful harp, (b) The minstrel is also a gifted dreamer, (c) High- 
land hospitality has been illustrated in many ways, (d) // is 
difficult to decide at what point in the story Fitz-James is most 
attractive — as hunter, as guest at Roderick's home, as suitor at 
Ellen's cave, or as he appears in the campfire scene, (e) Among 
the attractive similes in this canto are those found in the following 
passages: lines 199-203, 299-300, 544-47. 11. Tell the story 
of Alice Brand, beginning Once upon a time. 12. Tell the story 
of Blanche of Devan. 

Canto V 

18. Gael: Highlander. 



Canto v.] Notes and Comnient 179 

123. Not then claimed sovereignty his due. Before King James 
was old enough to rule, the kingdom w?!s governed by regents. 
Albany, one of these, was not strong er jugh to keep the realm 
in peace. There were many feuds be ween prominent families, 
and frays such as the one referred to in the sixth stanza were not 
uncommon, even in Holy-Rood, the royal palace. 

164. The Gael, of plain and river heir. "So far, indeed, was 
a Creagh, or foray, from being held disgraceful, that a young 
chief was always expected to show his talents for command so 
soon as he assumed it, by leading his clan on a successful enter- 
prise of this nature, either against a neighboring sept [clan], for 
which constant feuds usually furnished an apology, or against 
the Sassenach, Saxons, or Lowlanders, for which no apology 
was necessary. The Gael, great traditional historians, never 
forgot that the Lowlands had, at some remote period, been the 
property of their Celtic forefathers, which furnished an ample 
vindication of all the ravages that they could make on the un- 
fortunate districts which lay within their reach." (Scott) 

182. Save to fulfil an augury. What augury? 

253. Jack: a padded leather coat of mail. 

298. Three mighty lakes: Katrine, Achray, and Vennachar. 
See map. 

302-3. Rome. Before the English came to England, the 
isl.vud was for a long time held by the Romans. The eagle was 
the emblem of the Roman army. 

330. Between the living and the dead. It will be recalled 
that Brian's father, so the legend ran, was a phantom, and that 
his mother died at child-birth. 

356. Carpet knight: a knight who has won his title not by 
showing valor in field of battle but by polite and flattering be- 
havior at court. 

505. Fleet career. To make sure that it was possible to cover 
so great a distance in the time given, Scott galloped from Loch 
Vennachar to Stirling. The poet was a skilled horseman and 
fond of furious riding. 

550. A Douglas by his sovereign bled. "The fate of William, 



i8o Notes and Comment [Canto v. 

eighth Earl of Douglas, whom James II stabbed in Stirling Castle 
with his own hand, and while under his royal safe-conduct, is 
familiar to all who read Scottish history. Murdack Duke of 
Albany, Duncan Earl of Lennox, his father-in-law, and his 
two sons, Walter and Alexander Stuart, were executed at Stirling 
in 1425. They were beheaded upon an eminence without the 
Castle walls, but making part of the same hill, from whence 
they could behold their strong Castle of Doune and their exten- 
sive possessions. This "heading hill," as it was sometimes 
termed, bears commonly the less terrible name of Hurley-hacket, 
from its having been the scene of courtly amusement alluded to 
by Sir David Lindsay, who says of the pastimes in which the 
young King was engaged: 

Some harled him to the Hurley-hacket; 
which consisted in sliding — in some sort of chair, it may be 
supposed — from top to bottom of a smooth bank. The boys 
of Edinburgh, about twenty years ago, used to play at the fiurly- 
hacket on the Calton Hill, using for their seat a horse's skull." 
(Scott) 

558. The Franciscan steeple: the steeple of the Greyfriars 
Church. 

562. Momce-dancers. Morrice is a corrupt form of Moorish. 
The Morrice dance was of Spanish origin but was very popular 
in English merry-making. 

564. The burghers hold their sports to-day. ''Every burgh 
of Scotland of the least note, but more especially the considerable 
towns, had their solemn play, or festival, when feats of archery 
were exhibited, and prizes distributed to those who excelled in 
wrestling, hurling the bar, and the other gymnastic exercises of 
the period. Stirling, a usual place of royal residence, was not 
likely to be deficient in pomp upon such occasions, especially 
since James V was very partial to them. His ready participa- 
tion in these popular amusements was one cause of his acquiring 
the title of the King of the Commons," or Rex Plebeiorum, as 
Lesley has Latinized it." (Scott) 

613. Butts: targets. 



Canto v.] Notcs and Comment i8i 

614. Robin Hood: an English outlaw famous in song and 
story. He and Friar Tuck will be remembered by those who 
have read Ivanhoe. The other characters mentioned in the 
twenty-second stanza are associated with Robin Hood. Maid 
Marian, Robin's mistress, takes the part of queen of the May. 
A good description of such outdoor revels will be found in the 
fourteenth chapter of Scott's Abbot. That the revelers at times 
grew unruly is shown in the following note by Sir Walter: ''The 
exhibition of this renowned outlaw and his band was a favorite 
frolic at such festivals as we are describing. This sporting, in 
which kings did not disdain to be actors, was prohibited in 
Scotland upon the Reformation, by a statute of the sixth Parlia- 
ment of Queen Mary, c. 61, A. D. 1555, which ordered, under 
heavy penalties, that 'na manner of person be chosen Robert 
Hude, nor Little John, Abbot of Unreason, Queen of May, nor 
otherwise.' But in 1561 the 'rascal multitude,' says John Knox, 
Svere stirred up to make a Robin Hude, whilk enormity was of 
mony years left and damned by statute and act of Parliament; 
yet would they not be forbidden.' z\ccordingly they raised a 
very serious tumult, and at length made prisoners the magistrates 
who endeavored to suppress it, and would not release them till 
they extorted a formal promise that no one should be punished 
for his share of the disturbance. It would seem, from the com- 
plaints of the General Assembly of the Kirk, that these profane 
festivities were continued down to 1592. Robin Hood was, to 
say the least, equally successful in maintaining his ground 
against the reformed clergy of England; for the simple and 
evangelical Latimer complains of coming to a country church 
where the people refused to hear him because it was Robin 
Hood's day, and his mitre and rochet were fain to give way to 
the village pastime " 

630. Archer wight: a mere archer. 

637. Larbet. Larbet and Alloa are towns near Stirling. 

660. The Ladies' Rock. This, we are told, is a little elevation 
in the valley below the castle, where the ladies were accustomed 
to view the games. 



1 82 Notes and Comment [cantovi. 

887. Stout Earl William. This is the William Douglas re- 
ferred to in line 550. 

Questions and Topics for Study 

1. Explain: matins, arraignment, augury, target and claymore, 
carpet knight, invulnerable, banditti, buffet. 2. Would the com- 
bat have been as exciting had there been spectators? had the 
combatants not been rival lovers? had Brian's prophecy been 
different? had Fitz- James not avowed to avenge Blanche of 
Devan? had Roderick not entertained Fitz- James? had the 
combatants been less evenly matched? 3. In what ways are 
''martial Faith and Courtesy's bright star" shown in this canto? 

4. With whom does the reader sympathize during the combat? 

5. Did Scott introduce the games at Stirling because the account 
was needed in the story, or because he wished to show the cus- 
toms of long ago? 6. Are the contests interesting? all the 
events probable ? 7. Why did Douglas return to Stirling ? 
8. Does Fitz- James know that Douglas is Ellen's father? 9. 
How do you explain Fitz- James's harsh treatment of Douglas? 
10. Does the canto end effectively? 11. What questions remain 
unanswered in the reader's mind? 12. Memorize stanzas ix- 
x! 13. Write paragraphs beginning with the following sentences: 

(a) Fitz- James has a number of reasons for hating Roderick. 

(b) The conversation between the rival lovers leaves the reader 
with a far better impression of Roderick's character, (c) The 
games at Stirling differed in a number of respects from an athletic 
meet of to-day. 

Canto VI 

3. Caitiff: miserable creature. 

60. Halberd : a long, metal-pointed pole with a battleaxe near 
the end. 

90. Poule: Paul. 

92. Black-jack : a pitcher made of leather. 

93. Sack: a Spanish wine. 

98. Beelzebub : 'Trince of devils." In Paradise Lost he is 



Canto vi.j Notcs and Comment 1 83 

the principal follower of Satan. Apollyon is ''king of the bot- 
tomless pit." 

103. Placket and pot: a figurative expression for ''women 
and wine," which the coarse singer declares are the reward 
received by the vicar for his services as priest. 

104. Lurch: swindle. 
136. Purvey: furnish. 

183. TuUibardine : the residence of the Murrays in Perthshire. 

199. Errant damosel. In Spencer's Fairy Queen appears 
such a lady, or damsel, in company with an errant knight who 
has promised to redress her wrongs. 

234. Barret-cap: a flat cap of cloth, formerly worn by soldiers. 

295. Leech: doctor. 

306. Prore: prow. 

377. Erne: eagle. 

404. Barded: armored. 

405. Battalia: army. 

414. Vaward: vanguard, or a body of troops marching in 
advance of the main army to guard against surprise. 

452. Tinchel: "a circle of sportsmen, who, by surrounding a 
great space, and gradually narrowing, brought immense quantities 
of deer together, which usually made desperate efforts to break 
through the tinchel.'" (Scott) 

539. Bonnet-pieces. The bonnet piece was a coin bearing the 
king's head with a bonnet instead of a crown. 

665. Perch and hood. The hawk or falcon was carried about 
on the hunter's wrist, sometimes secured by a light chain. It 
was blinded by a hood, which was removed whenever the hawk 
made a flight. 

707. Morning prime. Literally, this means six o'clock; as 
employed in this line, it means early morning. 

740. And Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's king! This an- 
nouncement causes no surprise, for the secret has been guessed 
earlier in the story; the reader, however, experiences pleasurable 
excitement, through his sympathy with the characters. 

The story finished, it is but natural that the reader should 



1 84 Notes and Comment icanto vi. 

care to know whether the tale is, wholly or in part, true. There 
was, of course, a Scottish sovereign named James V, son of that 
James IV whose death, together with ten thousand followers, 
is told of by Scott in Marmion, A Tale of Flodden Field, and 
father of the unfortunate Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots, whose 
story is told in The Monastery. At the time of his father's 
death, James was less than two years old. For a time his mother 
Margaret was regent; but she soon married Douglas, Earl of 
Angus, a brave, handsome, rash young man, thereby becoming 
so unpopular that the regency was taken from her and given to 
Albany, nearest male relative of the king. Albany, however, 
was not strong enough to govern successfully so turbulent a 
people as the Scots were in the period following the defeat at 
Flodden, and eventually the Earl of Angus gained the upper hand. 
Though pretending to rule for the young king, he really kept 
the boy a prisoner, and bestowed the leading offices of govern- 
ment upon his relatives. The story of the king's daring escape 
— of how, after two unsuccessful attempts to get away from the 
Douglases, he at length succeeded in gaining Stirling Castle, 
makes interesting reading. All Douglases were banished from 
the realm, never to return during the king's lifetime. 

The Douglas of the story is an imaginary uncle of the Ear] of 
Angus. Yet note the following, taken from Scott's Tales of a 
Grandfather: ^'Archibald Douglas of Kilspindie, the Earl of 
Angus's uncle, had been a personal favorite of the King before the 
disgrace of his family. He was so much recommended to James by 
his great strength, manly appearance, and skill in every kind 
of warlike exercise, that he was wont to call him his Graysteil, 
after the name of a champion in a romance then popular. Archi- 
bald, becoming rather an old man, and tired of his exile in 
England, resolved to try the King's mercy. He thought that 
as they had been so well acquainted formerly, and as he had 
never offended James personally, he might find favor from their 
old intimacy. He therefore threw himself in the King's way 
one day as he returned from hunting in the park at Stirling. 
It was several years since James had seen him, but he knew him 



Canto VI.] Notes and Comment 185 

at a great distance, by his firm and stately step, and said, Yonder 
is my Graysteil, Archibald of Kilspindie! But when they met, 
he showed no appearance of recognizing his old servant. Douglas 
turned, and still hoping to obtain a glance of favorable recollec- 
tion, run along by the King's side; and although James trotted 
his horse hard against the hill, and Douglas wore a heavy 
shirt of mail under his clothes, for fear of asssassination, yet 
Graysteil was at the castle gate as soon as the King. James 
passed him and entered the castle; but Douglas, exhausted with 
exertion, sat down at the door, and asked for a cup of wine. 
The hatred of the King against the name of Douglas was so well 
known that no domestic about the court dared procure for the 
old warrior even this trifling refreshment. The King blamed, 
indeed, his servants for their discourtesy, and even said that 
but for his oath never to employ a Douglas, he would have 
received Archibald of Kilspindie into his service, as he had for- 
merly known him a man of great ability. Yet he sent his com- 
mands to his poor Graysteil to retire to France, where he died 
broken-hearted soon afterwards." 

Among the notable events of the young King's reign are numer- 
ous expeditions against the clans of the Border and of the High- 
lands, who, during the regency, had committed many lawless 
deeds. On one of these expeditions the King and his followers 
took with them their hawks and hounds, partly for sport, partly 
to allay suspicion. Only by such strategy could he lay hands 
upon chieftains who otherwise, on the approach of a royal army, 
would have fled to the hills. There are ghastly tales of several 
chieftains of the Border who, thinking the King and his followers 
had come as guests, prepared feasts in elaborate fashion, and 
were hanged for their pains. 

Many are the stories told of the experiences of James while 
disguised. For the purpose of seeing that justice was done, 
partly too to gratify his love for daring adventure, he often laid 
aside his royal costume and mingled with the common people. 
One such adventure may have suggested certain scenes in The 
Lady of the Lake; "Upon another occasion King James, being 



l86 Notes and Comment [canto vi. 

alone and in disguise, fell into a quarrel with some gipsies, or 
other vagrants, and was assaulted by four or five of them. This 
chanced to be very near the bridge of Cramond; so the King 
got on the bridge, which, as it was high and narrow, enabled 
him to defend himself with his sword against the number of 
persons by whom he was attacked. There was a poor man 
threshing corn in a barn near by, who came out on hearing the 
noise of the scuffle, and seeing one man defending himself against 
numbers, gallantly took his part with his flail to such good pur- 
pose that the gipsies were obliged to fly. The husbandman 
then took the King into his barn, brought him a towel and water 
to wash the blood from his face and hands, and finally walked 
with him a little way towards Edinburgh, in case he should be 
again attacked. On the way, the King asked his companion 
what and who he was. The laborer answered that his name 
was John Hourison, and that he was a bondsman on the farm 
of Braehead, near Cramond, which belonged to the King of 
Scotland. James then asked the poor man if there was any 
wish in the world which he would particularly desire should be 
gratified; and honest John confessed he should think himself 
the happiest man in Scotland were he but proprietor of the farm 
on which he wrought as a laborer. He then asked the King, 
in turn, who he was; and James replied, as usual, that he was 
the Goodman of Ballengiech, a poor man who had a small 
appointment about the palace; but he added that if John Houri- 
son would come to see him on the next Sunday, he would en- 
deavor to repay his manful assistance, and at least give him the 
pleasure of seeing the royal apartments. 

''John put on his best clothes, as you may suppose, and ap- 
pearing at a postern gate of the palace, inquired for the Good- 
man of Ballengiech. The King had given orders that he should 
be admitted; and John found his friend the Goodman of Ballen- 
giech, in the same disguise which he had formerly worn. The 
King, still preserving the character of an inferior officer of the 
household, conducted John Hourison from one apartment of 
the palace to another, and was amused with his wonder and his 



Canto vi.j Notes and Comment 1 87 

remarks. At length he asked him if he should like to see the 
King; to which John replied nothing would delight him so 
much, if he could do so without giving offence. The Goodman 
of Ballengiech, of course, undertook that the King would not be 
angry. 'But,' said John, 'how am I to know his grace from 
the nobles who will be all about him?' 'Easily,' replied his 
companion; 'all others will be bare-headed, the King alone 
will wear his hat or bonnet.' 

"So speaking, King James introduced the countryman into a 
great hall which was filled by the nobility and officers of the 
crown. John was a little frightened, and drew close to his 
attendant; but was still unable to distinguish the King. 'I 
told you that you should know him by his wearing his hat,' 
said his conductor. 'Then,' said John, after he had again looked 
around the room, 'it must be either you or me, for all but us 
two are bareheaded.' 

"The King laughed at John's fancy; and, that the good yeo- 
man might have occasion for mirth also, he made him a present 
of the farm of Braehead, which he had wished so much to possess, 
on condition that John Hourison, or his successors, should be 
ready to present an ewer and basin for the King to wash his hands, 
when his Majesty should come to Holyrood palace, or should pass 
the Bridge of Cramond. Accordingly, in the year 1822, when 
George IV came to Scotland, the descendant of John Hourison 
of Braehead, who still possesses the estate which was given 
to his ancestor, appeared at a solemn festival and offered his 
Majesty water from a silver ewer, that he might perform the 
service by which he held his lands." 

The above tale is found in Chapter XXIV of the first volume 
of Scott's Tales of a Grandfather^ a book that should be better 
known by young American readers. 

Other characters in the story, Roderick, Malcolm, Allan- 
bane, are purely imaginary, yet typical of the times with which 
the story deals. The battle of Beal'an Duine is imaginary, 
yet at a somewhat later period a skirmish took place at this 
pass in the Trossachs. The fighting ended with a dramatic 



1 88 Notes and Comment [canto vi. 

incident quite similar to the one related by Scott, a swimmer 
being killed by a blow from a tomahawk in the hand of a woman, 
just as he was about to land on the island. 

Thus it is seen that the story is based partly on history, partly 
on legend, and in part it is purely imaginary. The pictures 
given of the Trossachs region are true; and equally true, in a 
general way, are the glimpses here and there of customs and 
manners long since faded into tradition. 

802. Talisman: any object supposed to work wonders; a 
charm. This suggests The Talisman, one of Scott's Crusader tales. 

813. Grace: pardon. 

Questions and Topics for Study 

1. Some critics object to the guardroom scene with which 
the canto begins. Does it seem objectionable to you ? 2. What 
difficulty confronts one who tells a story wholly or in part his- 
torical? 3. What is gained by having the minstrel tell of the 
battle? 4. Why have him tell it to Roderick? 5. Why have 
Roderick die? Would it be equally dramatic to end the tale 
by having the chieftain pardoned? 6. Why not end the story 
with an account of Roderick's burial? 7. How do you account 
for the fact that the similes in the description of the battle have 
to do with the ocean in angry mood, mountain cascades, whirl- 
winds, whirlpools, earthquakes? 8. Why do most similes take 
the reader to nature? 9. Who sings the Lay of the Imprisoned 
Huntsman? 10. Where in the poem does Ellen appear most 
attractive? 11. What character in the poem do you most 
admire, and for what reasons? 12. What, on the whole, is 
the most exciting incident? the most vivid description? the best 
song? the greatest surprise? 13. What purpose is served by 
the introductions and the songs? 14. What evidence does the 
poem contain that Scott was a reading man? that he was an 
antiquary? that he was a lover of nature? that he was a lover 
of outdoor pastimes? 15. What have you found to like in 
Scott's way of telling a story? 16. Memorize two or three 
stanzas. 17. Imagining yourself Ellen Douglas, write a letter 



Canto vi.j Notes and Comment 1 89 

to Lady Margaret — such a letter as she may have written the 
day following the one which brings the story to a close. 

THE METRICAL PLAN OF THE POEM 

A line of poetry is thought of as made up of syllable-groups, 
each group containing a stressed or accented syllable; hence 
in each line there are as many feet, as the groups are called, as 
there are stressed syllables. A line is called monometer, dimeter, 
trimeter, tetrameter, pentameter, hexameter, etc., according as 
it contains one, two, three, four, five, or six feet. A metrical 
foot of two syllables the first of which receives the stress is called 
a trochee. A foot of two syllables the second of which receives 
the stress is called an iambus. A foot of three syllables the 
first of which receives the stress is called a dactyl. A foot of 
three syllables the last of which receives the stress is called an 
anapaest. By combining, we get such terms as iambic trimeter, 
trochaic tetrameter, etc., which are convenient for expressing 
the number and kind of feet in a given line. This very meager 
explanation may help the young reader to understand in some 
measure the metrical plan of The Lady of the Lake; a complete 
understanding, however, can be gained only through careful 
study of a good manual of versification, or better still, through 
painstaking instruction on the part of a skilled teacher. 

The main part of the poem is written in iambic tetrameter 
lines which rime in couplets; that is, each line contains four 
iambic feet, and the first line rimes with the second, the third 
with the fourth, and so on. Thus the scansion of the first four 
lines of the first stanza is as follows: 

t f ft 

The stag|at eve|had drunk|his fill 

t t r f 

Where danced|the moon|on Mo|nan's rill, 

t t I t 

And deep|his mid|night lair|had made 

t f ft 

In lone|Glenart|ney's ha|zel shade. 



IQO Notes and Comment [canto vi. 

A long poem written in this meter would soon grow tiresome 
were there not slight variation now and then to break the monot- 
ony. The first foot in a line is often a trochee, and an anapaest 
frequently takes the place of an iambus. Notice, for example, 
the line 

f t f t 

Yelled on|the view|the o|pening pack. 

Moreover the monotony is broken agreeably by the introduction 
of songs presenting a variety of meters. A number of these 
songs we will consider separately. 

The first, in Canto I, is written in trochaic tetrameter measure, 
that is, each line contains four trochees, though some lines are 
truncated. A truncated line is one in which one or two unac- 
cented syllables are missing at the end. The riming scheme 
is as follows: the first and third, second and fourth, fifth and 
seventh, sixth and eighth, ninth and tenth, and eleventh and 
twelfth lines rime; or, as it may be more conveniently indicated, 
the riming scheme is ab ab cd cd ee ff. 

r / ft 

Soldier, I rest! thy | warfare |o'er, 

ft t f 

Sleep the|sleep that|knows no|breaking; 
f t f t 

Dream of|battled|fields no|more, 
f t t f 

Days of|danger jnights ofjwaking. 

Notice that by means of indention the riming plan is made 
obvious. 

In Allan's song in Canto II, the second and fifth lines are 
iambic trimeter, the rest iambic tetrameter, the riming system 
being ab aab cc dd, thus: 

f f t t 

Not fas|ter yon|der row|ers' might 

t t f 

Flings from|their oars|the spray, 

f f r f 

Not fas|ter yonjder rip|pling bright, 

/ f t t 

That tracks|the shal|lop's course|in light, 



Canto VL] Notcs and Comment 191 

Melts in|the lake|away, 

r t t f 

Than men|from mem|ory|erase 

t t f f 

The ben|efits|of for|mer days; 

ft f f 

Then, strang|er, go! [good speed|the while, 

f f f f 

Nor think|again|of the lone|ly isle. 

The Boat Song, in this same canto, is written in the less com- 
mon dactyllic measure, the first four, the seventh, and the tenth 
lines being dactyllic tetrameter, the remaining lines dactyllic 
dimeter. The riming scheme is ab ab cc de ed. 

f f f f 

Hail to the|Chief who in|triumph ad|vances! 
f f t f 

Honored and|blessed be the|ever-green|Pine! 
f t t t 

Long may the|tree, in his|banner that|glances, 
/ f f f 

Flourish, the|shelter and|grace of our|line! 

Heaven send it|happy dew, 

t t 

Earth lend it|sap anew, 
f f ft 

Gayly to|bourgeon and|broadly to|grow, 
f f 

While every I Highland glen 

f f 

Sends our shout|back again, 
/ t t t 

'Roderigh Vich|Alpine dhu,|ho! ier|oe!* 

Notice that the final foot in many lines is a trochee and in cer- 
tain cases the trochee is truncated; or all the final feet may be 
considered dactyls some of which are truncated. Note too that 
in the second stanza added unaccented syllables are found at 
the beginning of lines three and four; or these two lines may be 
considered anapaestic. 



192 Notes and Comment [Canto vi. 

The beautiful Coronach in Canto III in dimeter lines riming 
ab ab cd cd, may be scanned, as anapaestic, relieved by an oc- 
casional iambus and by an added syllable at the end of the line, 
thus: 

f f 

He is gone|on the moun|tain, 
f f 

He is lost|to the for|est, 
f f 

Like a sum|mer-dried foun|tain 
t f 

When our need|was the sor|est. 

Some, however, consider the meter amphibrachic. An amphi- 
brach is a metrical foot of three syllables the second of which 
is stressed. Then the scansion is as follows: 

t f 

He|is gone on|the mountain, 
t f 

He|is lost to|the forest, 
f f 

Like|a summer-|dried fountain, 
f t 

When|our need wasjthe sorest. 
t t 

The font, re|appearing, 

t t 

From|the rain-drops|shall borrow, 
t t 

But|to us comes|no cheering, 
ft 
To Duncan|no morrow! 

Concerning the rollicksome drinking song in Canto VI there 
can be no doubt, for though some lines suggest the amphibrach, 
the anapaestic swing is unmistakable. There are, however, 
certain modifications: 

f f t f 

Our vic|ar still preach|es that Pe|ter and Poule 

t t f t 

Laid a swingling long curse|on the bonlny brown bowl, 



Canto vi.i Notcs and Comment 193 

' .' . '1 ' 

That there^s wrath|and despair|in the jol|ly black-jack, 

/ r f ^ 

And the seven|deadly sins|in a fiag|on of sack; 

r r r f 

Yet who|op, Barn|aby! off | with thy liq|uor, 

t t f t 

Drink up|sees out,|and a fig|for the vic|ar! 

No doubt to many the above explanation of metrical schemes 
will prove confusing. Versification is not a simple matter to 
be mastered in a day. But if the reader patiently analyzes 
metrically poem after poem, in time he will learn to detect quite 
readily the intended swing of most lines and how they should 
be read to bring out the proper movement. Nor should it be 
forgotten that poetry is far more than rime and meter. The poet 
not only chooses a melody appropriate to his subject matter, but 
by combining words harmoniously brings pleasure to the reader's 
ear. 



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